Fire Emblem: Reclamation
by Trainer Naps
Summary: A novelization. Jack is a strange man in a strange world. Somehow, he seems to remember people he's only just met upon waking up with amnesia and no idea of where he is or why he's there. Without warning he finds himself whisked into a conflict he has no part in, but the truth is far from that. Can our sarcastic tactician save this world? Or will it fade into darkness...?
1. Chapter 1: Death Rears Its Ugly Eyes

**Yeah, I've had this idea to do a bit of a parody of Fire Emblem: Awakening for a while. But, I then had a change of heart and decided to do a novelization with a few alterations and additions to the story-line to make it a little more interesting. I love Fire Emblem: Awakening and can't wait to get started on this little project!**

**And that's why we're here right now.**

* * *

_Darkness..._

_Destruction..._

_Hope..._

_Hats…_

_Sword arm…_

_Candy…_

_Flawed logic…_

_Cloak..._

_Dagger.._

_Flying horses…_

_Fire..._

_Daisies..._

_Evil Me…_

_Other Evil Me…_

_Wacky timeline…_

_Changing the world..._

Thoughts swam through his head like fish amidst a murky river. This altered state of consciousness he experienced…was it not dreaming? It felt like dreaming, only…He wanted to say real, but it felt different than that. If real could possibly feel…more real, that's what he felt.

He began to feel shaking. Not harshly, but melodiously back and forth. Deep down he began to feel woozy and sick. And then his vision began to penetrate the haze.

As his vision adjusted he was presented with no peaceful meadow, or whatever he expected. In the dark crypt in which he apparently stood, in control of his eyes but not his body, a battle commenced.

_Ugh…wait…who's that guy? _

Out of the darkness charged a mighty warrior, clad in blue armor with a white cape fluttering beside him. Roaring, he raised his sword, which could've been made of nothing less than the finest metals on Earth, and slashed it down at his target.

_Who's THAT guy?_

The olive skinned sorcerer, who in his left hand held some sort of book, raised his arm and snickered as he faced his intimidating adversary. Fire of black and purple formed in his fist as he and the swordsman went at it, striking and parrying each other's blows faster almost than he could follow.

But he was not in control of his head. The dream was.

_Wait, why are they fighting? Wait, why am _I_ fighting?_

Who-or-whatever controlled him raised his left arm, fingers clenched in a claw. A ball of sparkling orange energy formed within. The devil-bearded guy launched a waterfall of purple energy at the swordsman, who rolled underneath. Just as he completed the maneuver, the orange energy was launched.

It all happened so fluidly. He could barely follow the fight as it was. Apparently, both Bluehead and his puppet master were following the battle much more intently than he.

Yes, very apparently so. "Up there!" cried Bluehead, pointing into the rafters. Devilbeard had vanished from his spot and flown many meters into the air, where above his head he was forming a massive ball of chaotic energy.

Bluehead had the sense to jump out of the way, as did the puppet master, who sent his thrall action-rolling onto the ground. He came up on his knee and fired a net of golden energy at Devilbeard to cover his recovery.

_Wow, that was awesome! Did I get him?_

"You fool!" came the response he took as a "no." His vision center back on Bluehead who, alarmed, drew his sword. He was promptly repulsed into a stone pillar by a bolt of blue energy.

_That looked like it hurt…Hey, guy, you alright? Wait…can you even hear me?_

Bluehead got up on his knees, using his sword for balance. Well, it certainly meant he was okay, but being able to hear the pleas of the puppet was still out with the jury.

His vision was quickly whisked back to Devilbeard, who was one again forming a ball of energy bent on Bluehead's destruction.

_What's with these people and balls of magic? Wouldn't a refined beam be more precise and efficient? I mean, he'd just have to be like "Boom, right in the neck" and the other guy would be dead…though I'm still not sure whose side I'm on…_

The puppet master did his best to answer for him. As Devilbeard launched Bluehead's death express, another bolt of energy was sent from the puppet's palm, intercepting Devilbeard's. A great white flash ensued, blurring his vision.

_Great, now I can't see…and I feel sick again…_

Slowly, his vision came into focus. His eyes were level with Devilbeard's knees. Said crowned sorcerer was slowly rising, face squinted, studying the thrall with intensity.

_Wait, I don't remember falling down…_

"KYAAAAH!"

Bluehead, having gotten a second wind from who-knows-where, charged again. Devilbeard of course met his strike with a handful of magic. And the puppet master decided to strike.

Two fists filled with energy were shot at Devilbeard, who noticed at the last second in an exchange of blows with Bluehead. He sent a pulse of black energy into Bluehead's stomach, knocking him back. With ease destroyed the bolts with his own.

Which was exactly what the puppet master had planned.

In those split seconds he had shot to his feet with split second timing, so precise that his hand had reached straight through the fog of his destroyed decoy attack to seize Devilbeard's throat and lift him into the air.

Devilbeard struggled at first but somehow found it futile. _Funny_, the puppet thought, _He looks way bigger than me…_

"See, Validar?" came a new voice, which he assumed belonged to him. Or at least whatever controlled him. "I told you. I told you that I would make you pay. But you didn't listen to me. Just like you didn't listen to _her_!"

The grip on "Validar's" throat intensified, causing him to choke. He said nothing, but simply glared with his piercing red eyes.

_Hey, don't look at me! I didn't do anything!_

"Jack, the battle is won. You don't have to do this," Bluehead cautioned, approaching from behind.

"Oh, but I do. And I'm not trying to make a joke this time, Chrom. 'An eye for an eye'. Remember? That's what Fredrick said that one time. I think he'd agree."

Out from the puppet's robe, he removed another book, somewhat resembling Validar's, the one he had dropped. On its black and purple face was pulsating golden runes and symbols.

Chrom gasped. "No…Jack, you don't have to do this!"

"I do!" he snapped. "I'm going to do to _him _what _he _did to _her_! What he tried to do to Morgan! To ALL of us!" The pages fluttered open magically, and he hissed, "Let's see how _he _likes it…"

The hiss of a sword being unsheathed. "Jack, I'm warning you. Once you do this, there's no turning back. 'You said an eye for an eye?' That _is _what Frederick said. But then remember what Emmeryn said? She said 'An eye for an eye leaves the world blind.' Don't blind yourself, Jack. But down the tome."

There was a pause. _Wait, so is Jack the one that's me? I'm confused. Whose Morgan? And Fredrick? And…everyone else. I-_

"Fine…" growled "Jack."

_Oh, great. Yes, go on. Not like I was saying anything…_

Validar seemed to relax, smiling like a serpent. He still thought he was in charge. Jack dropped the book.

"Burn…" he whispered. Validar's eyes widened in surprise, but before he could throw up another barrier it was true late. A ball of orange energy met his gut, sending him spiraling back. The puppet master marched the body over to Validar's book, ignoring the actual sorcerer. A palm hovered over it.

"NO!" bellowed Validar from behind, but it was too late. A bolt of energy incinerated his book, causing a screech of pain. Validar burst into purple flame and fell to his knees. He made a week attempt at raising his arms, but then still fell flat.

Chrom turned and smiled, the flaming sorcerer still behind them. Chrom was just about to congratulate the both of them when:

"This isn't over…" hissed Validar, lurching onto his knees. "NOW YOU DIE!" He launched a ball of purple fire, and at point blank range this time.

Chrom would have never survived. Which is why it was a good thing that he was pushed out of the way by the puppet. Time slowed down as the glowing maelstrom neared his face…

_Aaaaand, here we go again… _His vision faded, replaced by pure white. _You know, I never thought I'd actually desire a wall to slam my head on. This is getting ridiculous. I…nope, wait…here we go…_

Sight, albeit dizzy, was returning. Two armored legs rushed over to him, of course carrying Chrom. He was helped up immediately by the strong swordsman, who himself was a bit shaky.

"You alright?" asked Chrom, smiling sheepishly. They both immediately looked towards Validar, who was now nothing more than a fading wisp of purple smoke.

"That's the end of him. Thanks to you, we carry the day. You can relax…" And that, the puppet did.

Until his vision began to pulse red. The puppet's breathing became ragged and labored. Chrom continued to speak, though his words muffled by the demonic force overcoming the puppet.

"At long last..." Chrom made another attempt on getting him to his feet, and once they met face to face, something was apparently very wrong to Chrom.

"Hey!" he shouted, "Are you okay!?"

_What, what's wrong!? Yeesh, he looks more afraid than when he was fighting the wizard guy…_

"Hey!" he continued shouting, "He-"

_BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!_

Chrom's face went slack and turned ashen pale. He stumbled back, allowing the puppet to clearly see the bolt of lightning that protruded from is chest plate.

Slowly, the puppet master revealed the puppet's hand. And it was sparking with electricity.

_WHOA! Did I do that!?_

The puppet looked up slowly, and locked eyes with Chrom. "This is not your…your fault…" His face writhed in pain. Every word must've been its own trial. "Promise me…that you will escape from this place…"

_Yeah, I kinda can't move this body, pal…And what do you mean it's not my fault!? I just zapped you with magic! _

"Please…" pleaded Chrom, "Go…"

And with that, his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell. And then he was still.

"Hehehehehehe…" came the demonic laughter, as his vision faded one last time. "AHAHAHAHAHA!"

_Alright, here we go again…feelin' kinda sick now…oh jeez…_

And then, all he knew was darkness…

* * *

**So, just to clear a few things up. Obviously to ya'll who played the game, you know what just went on here (except the part where "Jack" was talking to Chrom, which ties into my own personal touch :D). And just to be clear, "puppet" and many of the pronouns like "he" and "his" towards the beginning were geared to the main character, whose name being announced is pretty much a formality at this point. Pretty obvious by now, isn't it?**

**This story is, by the way, a bit of a relief for when I get a little bored with writing my regular ones and take a break. So don't expect very regular updates. Sorry!**

**As for "clearing a few things up" since I'm very forgetful, I'll do them as I remember them. But for now, the only things I can confirm at the moment as to the contingency of the raw story is that as for children, I will be using "canon" pairings with one exception, and that for now, the DLC may not be included. I don't have it yet, but plan on getting it soon. So maybe, like, a side story or something.**

**And for said additions, as well as to spice the story up, I'll be accepting OCs for smaller positions. The template is below!**

**Tune in next time where we get to argue with Frederick and give him a headache! Stay tuned!**

**Template**** for Submitted OCs:**

**Name:**

**Gender:**

**Species: Human, Manakete, Taguel, etc.**

**Class: If they were a unit in the game, what class would they be? This is so I know what their weapons and abilities will be. **

**Homeland: Where are they from? (Remember, if you pick somewhere like Valm or Rosanne and DON'T give them a reason to be in or around Ylisse, they wont appear for a very long time).**

**Personality: What are they like? What sets them off? A basic overview of their personality. And remember: their Homeland doesn't have to dictate who they are. There can be jerks from Ylisse, as well as good guys from Plegia. In other words, you don't have to profile them based on their kingdom XD. Plus, don't be so quick to immediately ship them with a cannon character, as someone might be paired with them already. Though feel free to specifically mention certain characters that tick yours off or would make them fall immediately and hopelessly in love or something like that.**

**Appearance****: What they look like, what they wear, etc.**

**Bio: Their past, family members, the like.**

**Position: What are they? A Shepherd? A Plegian Ranger? Something else? What do they do?**

**Weapons/Skills: (By skills, I mean in game. And if you've ever seen/read Lord of the Rings, you know how people love to name their weapons, and some are even special in some way. So go for it!)**

**Asset:**

**Flaw: (Like what you chose for your avatar in the beginning)**

**Battle quotes: (Something they might say frequently. Like a catch phrase).**

**Sorry if it seems like I'm asking a lot, but for a story like this I'd NEED a lot. So feel free to submit a character!**


	2. Chapter 2: What's In a Name?

**Back for another chapter! Just to be clear, a few changes have been made. First, this story is no longer a sole parody. I had some pretty cool ideas for a novelization, so I used my AUTHOR POWERS to change it. As well as the title to "Fire Emblem: Reclamation." Don't worry: there'll still be comedy from time to time.**

**Also, an OC form has been added to the first chapter. I wanna give the world some more feel to it, so submit an OC or two, just don't overload me with them! **

**And the last thing I want to cover so I don't forget later on is that the appearances of characters from the game may be changed a little bit to my liking. I felt like these extraordinary people that Chrom just...****_happened_**** upon was a little too orderly. So I'm gonna integrate them into the world a bit. Shouldn't be too much of a problem. **

**So, enjoy!**

* * *

_Head…pounding…Eyes…stinging…Chest…hurting…Smells…l ike flowers…_

The darkness that enveloped him swirled like a whirlpool, though with a gentle ebb that didn't shake but merely _suggested _that he sit up and puke.

For a while it seemed he'd never escape from the murky depths. He was trapped in this limbo forever. Lacking the energy to do anything about it, he was confined to this pitiful being.

And he didn't know why. That was the worst part. There were no memories to comfort him as to what was going on.

He didn't even know his name.

And then came the light: his salvation from this darkness. His anchor to reality came in the form of an angelic speak that wafted down like light from heaven above.

"Chrom, we have to do _something_!" came the soft, heavenly chime.

_Chrom…is…is that my name?_

Things were becoming clearer. Light flooded his eyes and the world became. He could _see_! Glorious sight! Little by little, the angel was dragging him back.

He saw two figures, blurred by shadow and the violent lurching of his vision. The one on the left was tall and lean, while the other was small and slight. He proposed that she was the angel, the one with the soft voice that saved his mind.

"Well, what do you propose we do?" nonchalantly demanded another voice.

_UGH! _It was like an icicle being driven into his brain. Why did that voice hurt him? Was this some sort of demon, whose voice hurt whereas the other's healed?

Was he dead!? Was this purgatory, or wherever his fate would be decided by the forces of light and dark?

Be it any possibility, the two openly conversed as if he had no part in the matter. Which he suspected he would soon find he in fact did not.

"I…I dunno!" confessed the angel.

It was this saintly hum that finally cleared his mind. His eyes shot wide, revealing the demon and the angel. Although one fit their supposed role, the other did not.

The one on the right, the angel, very much fit her assumed position. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied into two messy pigtails, with a lacy headdress dangling down before them. She wore a brown and yellow dress, with what appeared to be some sort of metal skirt, though it came across as more of a bird cage.

On the left was the "demon" who looked anything but. He was lean yet quite toned, with his muscles rippling under his white cape. His black leather vest was adorned by a white buckler and golden buttons fluttering up and down the fabric.

And he was very, very familiar. Haze began to trickle back in, though only making his mind a bit fuzzy, not painful as before.

"I see you're awake now," said the young man as he and the angel leaned over him.

"Hey there…" she greeted gently. Perhaps he was in some sort of sorry condition, what with them being stooped over like this.

"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," jested the young man, affirming the fact. The angel giggled. "Give me your hand."

A gloved hand was offered to him. Sluggish as it was, he moved his arm to accept the stranger's help. They clasped hands, and he was then able to see the tattoo.

_I don't remember getting that…must've been a crazy night…_

Though it didn't seem like a "wild night on the town" kind of tattoo. It didn't sport an odd picture or the name of an unknown female in the middle of a heart. It was a jagged purple line of three cryptic eyes on each side, forming a sort of wing shape. Maybe even a coat of arms.

Perhaps that's who these people were. Friends coming to pick him up after some sort of incident. Or maybe he was in the army, and that was some kind of brand or rank insignia.

But then again, that didn't explain the searing pain when he tried to remember.

Heedless of this strange marking, the young man pulled him up.

He stumbled, dizziness returning and stomach lurching. Both the young man and the angel reached out to help him.

"Are you okay?" asked the angel, worried.

Still a bit woozy, he looked at the young man. "Huh…thanks, Chrom…"

Suddenly, a cold metal hand gripped the back of his neck and yanked him from the angel's gentle care.

"Milord! We must exercise caution! I had my suspicions that this might be a trap!" declared a gruff new voice.

"Buddy, I ain't even seein' too good right now…" slurred the stranger, barely able to stand even with the rigid grip of his new armored friend.

"Quiet, you!" demanded the voice. "Milord, do you see what I mean? He's obviously an assassin trying to get close to you!"

"To be fair, you said it like, twice…" grumbled the stranger, unfazed by the armored figure holding him by the neck. Though honestly, it hadn't been due to mention that he recognized Chrom. The name had just…popped into his head.

The angel thrust her fists down in a girlish fit. "Frederick! You can't just bully people around like that! We don't even know his name yet!"

"I have to agree with this Lissa on this one, Frederick," said Chrom. He strode forward slowly. At first, Frederick tightened his grip. But as the man, who the stranger began to assume was his superior of some sort approached, it began to slacken.

"You must excuse my companion's caution," Chrom greeted warmly, "He didn't earn the name 'Sir Frederick the Wary' by taking chances."

The stranger scoffed. "Frederick the _Wary_? His cool knight nickname means _careful_!?"

The stranger felt a cold hand on his shoulder and was spun around suddenly, coming to face the tall and imposing figure who had only just released him. Frederick the Wary was stone faced, with a stoic set of grey eyes.

Frederick didn't look like the type of guy who laughed a lot. So, suffice it to say that the stranger didn't think he'd appreciate the last remark.

"Watch your tongue, stranger! You're in the present of Lord Chrom, the-"

"Oooooh, _he's _Chrom!"

"Tch…of course he is Chrom!" said Frederick, bewildered. If he didn't feel like he was about to throw up, the stranger might have even gotten a little laugh out of the reaction he had invoked from the usually collected warrior.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just…" The stranger shuddered. Nervous, Lissa took a step forward.

"A-are you-"

Without warning he fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. Lissa and Chrom rushed forward, with Frederick taking a step to the side.

The stranger grabbed onto a discarded helmet on the ground and held it in front of his face. Holding her nose in disgust, Lissa took a few steps back as he deposited his last meal inside of the metal container.

Wiping his mouth, the stranger got to his feet. "Sorry…just feeling a bit woozy…"

Slowly, a giddy smile spread itself onto Lissa's face. She covered her mouth as she began giggling uncontrollably. The ghost of a smile appeared on Chrom's face as well.

Confused, the stranger looked over his shoulder. Frederick's eyebrows were crossed and he was frowning. And considering the statue he had been conversing with earlier, he considered this to be a maelstrom of emotion in Frederick's case.

"What did I, uh-"

Lissa snorted. "That was Frederick's helmet…"

Chrom cleared his throat and tried to look professional. "So, stranger, what brings you here?"

"Ehehe…define 'here'…"

"You mean, you don't know where you are?" asked Lissa, mellowing out.

"Honestly? I don't even know who I _am_." The stranger ran a hand through his hair, which he felt was unkempt and stringy. It was sad, really. He couldn't even remember what he looked like.

Lissa silently gasped. "I've heard of this…it's called amnesia. It's when someone forgets things and they can't remember."

"It's a load of pegasus dung, that's what it is," grumbled Frederick, crossing his arms.

"Anyway, you're in Ylisse," chimed Lissa, answering his previous question. Though it didn't really help at all…What was a 'Ylisse?' Was it a country? A province? A city? Did it _exist_? Was this some sort of dream?

"You're lucky the Shepherds found you," said Chrom, placing a hand on his hip. "What with all the bandits about lately, you could've been robbed. Or worse."

"Oooooh, Shepherds!" the stranger said unimpressed. He pretended to quake in his boots while looking fearfully from Chrom to Lissa. "Will you defeat these dastardly bandits with your flocks of sheep?"

Lissa stomped her foot. "Humph! I think that all but proves his amnesia. People know and fear the Shepherds all across the land!"

"How's that?" retorted the stranger.

"We don't tend sheep," informed Chrom, a tad amused, "Well, in that manner of speaking…"

"How many manners of speaking can there be to tending sheep?" inquired the stranger.

"This stranger has a serious respect problem…" growled Frederick.

"Listen, it's been a trip meeting you all, but I should probably get going," said that stranger, heading towards the road, "Perhaps someone around here knows who I am."

"G-good idea!" shouted Lissa, trying to catch up with him. "Like, maybe you got in a bad accident and you have family nearby!"

The stranger stopped and turned around. "Yeah, but I'm kinda putting my money on some kinda wild night…maybe a bachelor party?"

Faster than he could've vomited in the knight's helmet again, Frederick was at the bottom of the knoll, his speed betraying his galvanizing size and his spear pointed into the stranger's neck. To the amnesiac, the list of people here who liked him was beginning to organize itself into a nice row of three…

"You'll do no such thing!" barked Frederick. "For all we know, you could be off to signal your bandit comrades and ambush Lord Chrom!"

The stranger peered around Frederick's bulk and raised an eyebrow at Chrom. The Shepherd sheepishly grinned like he was embarrassed by a pet's behavior.

"Frederick, get that thing out of his face this instant!" Lissa demanded. Not even showing begrudge, Frederick obeyed. The stranger smiled in Frederick's face as he was forced to stand down; he'd have to make a point of learning this strange chain of command.

Chrom placed a hand on Frederick's shoulder. "Now, now, we mustn't treat every stranger like a hostile, Frederick. For all we know, he _could_ just be a local suffering from a bad case of a wild night. We'll take him to Southtown, and once we establish he's no enemy of Ylisse, he can go free."

"C'mon!" urged Lissa, grabbing the stranger's hand and pulling him forward. "I'll tell you all about the Shepherds on the way!"

While he was dragged unceremoniously forward by the giddy preteen, the stranger looked over his shoulder and shouted, "Well, at least not _all _of us think with our spears!"

Chrom snickered subtly, earning a cold half-glare from his second in command. He shrugged. "You know, he may have a bit of a point. Blind loyalty gets us nowhere. Using your head pays off, too."

"Yes, I wouldn't be surprised," Frederick growled coolly, "But at the moment, my head is somewhat vulnerable, what with my helmet being filled with vomit."

…

The two knights wasted not more than another minute chatting before gathering their remaining gear and heading out after the little girl and the familiar one.

Yes, Lissa had been right. This stranger they had just unwittingly let into their midst did not simply have too much cider the night before. The Shepherds had foolishly let a wolf right into their flock.

The figure in the black cloak hidden amongst the bushes had been so close to snatching the stranger up in his sleep. No mess, no noise, no problem. But then the blasted nobles and their dog had appeared, complicating the whole matter.

But then they just up and sorted it out for her. Easy-peasy. And instead of complicating the entire matter, they themselves had just slapped and added bonus on the job she had already been sent to complete. Many birds would fall from this single stone.

It was just so delicious that she could not help but lick her lips. Frederick already didn't trust this newcomer. That was good; it eliminated even more work for her. Just one simple push and they'd be at each other's throats at a moment of her choosing.

Up ahead, Chrom and Frederick were just now vanishing below a bend in the hills on their way to Southtown. A good a time as any to move out. Sure, the Shepherds had fought entire packs of wolves in their careers, but never a jackal.

And without knowing it, Lissa had been right about _two _things that day. The stranger _did _in fact have family nearby. But from her, the Shepherds would find no aid.

While on the contrary, they were going to serve her indefinitely.

…

The trip to Southtown was no evening stroll through the park. It was a long trip that only seasoned travelers and those with horses (like Sir Buzz-Kill himself) should attempt. The golden sunshine of the Ylissean countryside was nice, but grew harsher with every step. Especially when you had just woken up from a coma and were extraordinarily sore.

On the way, the stranger had been lucky enough to come across a puddle in the road. Why was this lucky, you may ask? Well, he finally got to know what he looked like.

He was pale, not dreadfully so, but his skin was still a shade greyer than Lissa's or Chrom's. He was most likely not from Ylisse. He had a pair of blue-grey eyes, and his tousled blonde hair was a bit more bleached than Lissa's golden blonde, meaning he must've lived somewhere unforgivably sunny.

His clothes were nothing special, unless you counted the vibrant purples, blacks and golds of his cloak. The rest of his wear, a white tunic, brown trousers, and leather boots were all weathered and covered in grime and sweat.

Luckily, the stranger had Lissa to distract him during the long walk. The adorable little cleric had been happily jabbering his ears off the entire trip, telling him about each and every individual she was familiar with within the Shepherds.

Frederick must've been growing weary by the second of conversation. It was only a matter of time before Lissa ran out of pals to mention and started talking about things like their weapons and the location of their base. Just what an assassin would want to learn.

That's where he planned to stop her. The stranger didn't want to hurt these people…at least, he thought he didn't. Maybe he _was _in fact an assassin and accidentally exposed himself to some sort of poison that took his memories. The possibility could not be discounted.

_Why would I even think that about myself?_

"…and then there's Sumia," continued Lissa, blissfully babbling about her buddies' bios. "She's a really nice person. Though she can be awful clumsy…" Lissa giggled and then whispered in his ear, "I think she likes my brother…"

"Jack," he replied mechanically, not even looking at her.

"Huh?" Lissa pulled back in confusion.

"My name. It's Jack."

Lissa smiled. "That's so great! You're remembering things! Chrom, Chrom, guess what!?"

As Lissa excitedly told her brother the news, Jack continued to walk. And to think. The recovery of his name had been a slow, slow process. And a painful one, too. Not as painful as when Chrom had spoken when he was coming out of the coma. That had been like driving a thick nail into his brain.

But every time Lissa mentioned another name: Vaike, Sully, Stahl, Sumia, Miriel, Ricken, Maribelle…there would be a dull pain rimming his mind. Like, the nail had already been driven in, but with each new Shepherd mentioned, it would shift positions.

Every time he learned a new name, a new voice would whisper: _"Jack."_

Lissa had finished her news report, and Chrom smiled openly. "Well, it seems are friend has a name. If your memories had stayed put for much longer we'd have had to name you ourselves."

Jack nodded. "Yes, well, not much besides my name has come…" He trailed off, abstractedly staring at the ground. "Your stave…"

Lissa pulled her healing staff into her arms, gripping it tightly to her chest. Lissa was a cleric, another word for combat medic. At birth, examination from the Ylisstol Court Mage had pronounced her with magic capabilities; not enough to study as a mage but enough to heal. Her stave was an enchanted rod that allowed her to tap into said magic reserves to others on the battlefield. However she could not do the same to herself, as her own magic reentering her body could be fatal.

"Yeah? What about it?"

"You're dragging it on the ground. If I'm correct, that's a saphirium gem in your stave. When exposed to direct sunlight its power becomes more potent."

Chrom and Lissa exchanged glances. Jack was correct. Lissa had been lectured on this when receiving her very first stave. Of course, like all young girls did, she brushed it aside and forgot about it completely once she became a Shepherd.

"How do you know so much about staves?" asked Lissa, making sure that her stave was now.

Jack shrugged. "I'm not really that sure. It just…came to me."

"Hmm…" Chrom rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Maybe…you're a cleric? Did you find anything on your person to suggest that?"

"No…All I found was this." Out from his cloak Jack produce a weathered old leather book. Decorating the front cover were intricate runes and patterns of golden paint that Jack could not translate. The arcing and waving of the glyphs was to archaic and fascinating, but still incomprehensible. Prominently over all else was the only thing Jack _did_ recognize: a lightning bolt.

"That's a tome…" murmured Lissa.

"Yeah, it must be a…whatever that is. I tried seeing if it said anything about me, but it's all this darned moon speak." Jack flipped through it. With every page he read, even less made sense to him. It was in a complete other language.

Another good question: could Jack read?

"It's the language of the ancient. They're words of power. You're not supposed to _read _them," deadpanned Frederick from behind. While Chrom and Lissa were overjoyed to hear that a bona-fide mage was in their midst, Frederick only dreaded it. Back when he had only assumed Jack a petty assassin trying the oldest trick in the book he was confident that one lance strike would take down the newcomer.

But with a Thunder tome? That meant trouble. Frederick had tangled once with a very pesky Thunder mage in a border scrimmage near the Plegian lines. It didn't end so well…

"That's so cool!" gushed Lissa, "Can you use it?"

Chrom stopped dead, holding out an arm to signal for his comrades to do the same. He gulped. "We may have to soon find out."

Jack looked forward, immediately finding the meaning and gravity of Chrom's words. Southtown was finally ahead.

And it was burning.

…

"KYAAAAAAAAAAH!" The soldier shoved off the bandit whom he had locked swords with. The brute lost his balances and stumbled backwards.

"Bard, now!" the soldier cried over his shoulder. Up on a rooftop, an archer who had been picking off bandits in the opposite street heeded his superiors call. The arrow he had been knocking for another bandit was gifted to this one. The bandit fell down, and this time he did not get up.

The soldier wiped some sweat from his face. "Curse these brigands…they never stay down!"

While he hated to admit it, a squad of these Plegian barbarians were worth two squads of his own men. They were built like bears and had just about as much endurance and strength.

"Captain, you're gonna want to see this!" Bard called from above, shading his eyes with a hand as he peered over where his superior could not see.

The Captain jogged forward to confirm what his man saw, when all of a sudden a brigand exploded through the building in front of him. He drew his sword and prepared for battle.

Relaxing, the Captain noticed that the brigand was going limp as he somersaulted through the air, landing in a heap amidst the rubble his body had created. Groaning, the beefy man slumped down.

The confused Captain looked up towards the hole to find it smoking. Crackles of electricity snaked along its edges.

"Hey, what do ya know?" came a cry from the other side, "I _can _use the tome!"

…

"Shepherds, am I glad to see you!" greeted the soldier, who extended a hand to Chrom. "Captain Iroquin. I'm the leader of the Southtown garrison. Or, well, what was left of it…"

Chrom clasped his hand. "At ease, soldier. What happened here?"

"Barbarians came ballistic at our borders. We didn't have any time to sound the alarm."

"Makes sense," said Jack, "They would've hidden in the tall grass around Southtown to get close…crafty."

Iroquin nodded. "Right. They pummeled our border guard and headed right to the barracks in the center of town. Caught most of our boys sleeping, most of 'em literally." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "What you see here is the border guard from the rest of town. Everyone back at the barracks is either dead or missing."

"And the people?" inquired Frederick.

"Evacuating them. Dedicated half the men I had left to it. That's why we're gettin' our tales handed to us. Plegian dastards…"

Lissa shivered. "This is bad…"

"Captain, we're going to have to clear your borders," said Frederick, stepping off of his horse, "Then we'll have to secure your citizens and clear out the remaining bandits."

The Captain snorted. "Yeah, pick one. Tried that school of thinking before. Second we dropped the last Plegian, a whole flock of mages popped out of nowhere. My men barely stood a chance…With the border gone, and my men so spread out, the Plegians have the run of the town. It's all a big game to them, and unless we root out their central holdings, they win."

Chrom winced. If Captain Iroquin was right, than they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. The further they went into town, the more barbarians they'd encounter. If they skirted around the fringes, they'd be eventually picked off.

_It's my duty to protect these people and make the hard calls, _Chrom affirmed_, Emm warned me about this…but it has to be done._

"I have an idea," said Jack, making his way into the fold.

Frederick blinked. "What makes you think-"

"Easy, Frederick. Let's hear him out," said Chrom. Frederick put up no fight, but again Jack suspected that was a genuine blow to his authority.

"Thank you." He addressed Iroquin. "Sir, if I'm correct, the Plegians aren't particularly picky with their targets?"

"Nope. If it ain't one of them, it's fair game," he answered.

"So that would mean a greater concentration of men would attract more attention, right?"

"Yeah…" said Lissa. "Bandits plunder, right? So more people means more loot to them."

Jack nodded. "Now you're getting it. Captain, if you and the bulk of your men hole up together, the bandits won't be able to resist. They'll attack."

"Excuse me for not understanding your…brilliant strategy," growled Frederick, arms folded. "But isn't getting attacked a _bad _thing?"

"Not for our purposes. If Captain Iroquin picks a spot close to the center of town, an easily defensible spot of his choosing, he could draw brigands away from the center. A small team could then work their way in and take our their leadership."

"And no leadership…" began Lissa.

"Means no coordination," finished Chrom. He placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "It's a great plan. What do you think, Captain?"

"Makes sense," agreed the Captain. "Most of the men I have left are archers. Think I still got a mage or two. We could set up in Central Avenue and pick em off as they come."

Frederick scowled. This stranger was overstepping boundary after boundary. He needed to be reminded of his place.

"How can we be sure that the bandits will take the bait?" spat Frederick.

Jack grinned. "Well, with two Shepherds, how could they resist?"

"Are you implying-"

"Chrom, here's my proposal: you and Frederick go with Captain Iroquin's men and hold out in Central Avenue to draw away barbarians. Lissa and I will sneak into the center of town and take down the bandit leader. Sound good?"

Chrom scratched his chin. One look into Frederick's eyes gave him a pretty good idea of what _he_ thought. Frederick was no doubt against sending Lissa with this outsider whom they had just met, much less follow his plan. The stoic soldier would probably argue that Jack was in league with the bandits and was headed to hand over Lissa as a hostage.

Then again, the intricacy of the plan as well as the several bandits that Jack had fried spoke volumes…

Iroquin spoke up. "Sir, if ya want my input, I think it's a solid plan. My archers'll make those dastards think twice before just charging at us. It'll give us some more time. Plus, your tactician seems pretty handy with a tome. If he gets close enough, that fat bandit won't stand a prayer."

"I'm all for it!" said Lissa, slamming the butt of her stave onto the concrete.

Chrom turned one last time to his most trusted advisor, who had observed the thought Chrom was putting into the matter. Frederick sighed. "Milord, while I would advise against it…you reserve the final judgment…"

He nodded and turned back around. "Alright, I've made my final decision." Jack's heart pounded faster as Chrom stepped forward. Did he believe him an assassin like Frederick had been saying? Was he going to strike him down!?

The knight stuck out his hand. "Protect my sister, will you?"

"With my life." Jack shook Chrom's hand. "Alright, folks, let's head out. Whoever takes down the least bandits has to buy dinner."

Iroquin snorted. "I'll have to take that bet. Those dastards took my coin pouch…"

* * *

**If it wasn't obvious enough already, our protagonist has a name! How will his plan in Southtown go over? Who was the mysterious robed figure lurking in the shadows? Will Frederick get a new helmet? Find out next time!**

**Finally got a little extra cash, so I'll begin playing some of the DLC. By the way, I started a new playthrough of FE:A to get a feel for the pairings I had marked down for the story, and I was a dummy and put it on Hard. Not that I don't appreciate the challenge, but (SPOILER ALERT) I need Donnel, Ricken, and Maribelle for some of my pairings, and getting them out alive was hard...guess they don't call it that for nothing...**

**So, review, and don't forget to send in an OC! Sheet on the first chapter! Bye!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Southtown Blitz

**The only thing we have to fear is fear itself**

**-Franklin D. Roosevelt**

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Chrom felt it. It was the thing that his sister had warned him about. The destroyer of wills. The breaker of oaths. The killer of men.

Chrom felt fear.

As he was leaving Ylisstol for the first time as the Captain of the Shepherds, he remembered his Emmeryn's exact words on the matter: _"A good leader doesn't know how to avoid fear_,_" _she had said with a wisdom far beyond her years, _"They know how to deal with it. And to use it to make them stronger."_

Right now Chrom feared for his sister. He wondered whether Jack's plan would work and he'd never get to see her again. Or that something went horribly wrong on the other end and Lissa perished. Or deep down, that Jack was in fact betraying them at this very moment.

"Is something wrong, milord?" Startled, Chrom turned around. Frederick was approaching from behind, mounted on his horse Pallus. As Jack had emphasized, the two older men's' presences would be mostly for show to draw more barbarians their way. In a range game like the one they were playing, a cavalryman wouldn't be of much practicality. But Frederick's lance was long and sharp, his horse was fast and strong, and his loyalty was all of those things combined. He'd fall upon his own blade before placing his master in danger.

Chrom sighed. "Frederick…have I made the right choice?"

"Milord, that is not my place to say. Right and wrong are what you define them as. Now, if you are asking if you made the _wise_ choice, with all due respect…I must admit you were a bit hasty. Trusting Jack without more convincing than a few smiles and an electrocuted barbarian or two was, in my opinion, somewhat rash."

The young man sighed. "Can I be honest with you, Frederick?"

"Of course, milord. That's why I am here," Frederick answered, a tad baffled by the question. Chrom was certainly not questing his allegiance…was he?

The young man paused and watched Iroquin's men as they set up to defend their position. The brigands would be arriving soon no doubt. The Southtown men had made no effort in being subtle when clearing out Central Avenue.

"Frederick, you've been with me since the beginning. You know how I've never lost a man in battle." This was true: not once had a soldier under Chrom's command perished in combat. Never.

"Of course, milord," said Frederick.

"I think…I made this decision because I didn't want that to change," admitted Chrom, slumping up against a building. "Once I arrived…all of these downtrodden men who though they'd have no tomorrow immediately looked up to me as their leader. Their prince had arrived, Frederick! Who _wouldn't _that give hope?"

Frederick grinned. "Not me, that's for sure."

"I know, Frederick. I know," grunted Chrom. "Once I unofficially assumed command here, I saw these soldiers as more people I had to keep alive. I took the easy out, Frederick. The one where I saved as many lives as possible. All of them, if I could. I was too afraid of being seen as a ruler whose men are just numbers. Numbers that can be added and divided in battle, and eventually subtracted. Just numbers…I didn't want to be someone like…"

"Like your father," Frederick said solemnly, not seeking to sugarcoat it.

"Right…so once this is over, I'll tell Emm she owes me an 'I told you so.'"

Frederick grinned. He had been waiting for a very long time for this moment to come. The moment where Chrom learned all the lessons he was learning right now. When he truly became a leader who was ready to lead.

Chrom kicked off of the wall, picking up Falchion, the legendary sword of House Ylisse. With it by his side, along with the royal crest on his shoulder, all would know he had the right to lead.

And once they realized what he was made of, they'd know he had the means, too.

"Frederick, after this, I promise you once this is over, I'll be more careful with planning," promised Chrom. "I'll be more shrewd: I won't be so quick to trust anymore."

Frederick nodded and reared his horse, heading back to the defensive line alongside Chrom. "Milord, while I'm proud of this revelation you are having, I sincerely hope that you do not have to learn your lesson on that account."

…

Jack pressed his back gently against the back of the wooden stand. Before the market square not twenty yards from the town's epicenter had been abandoned in the midst of the attack, whomever operated said stand must've been selling some form of incense or scented candles. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but something in or around the stall made his nose twitch.

Holding her nose as she picked up the stench just the same, Lissa crept up next to him. For such a small young lady, Lissa was about as clumsy and bumbling as Jack assumed Frederick was when it came to stealth. On several occasions so far, incinerating a glass bottle or broken piece of tinder with Thunder was a quieter option than having Lissa attract attention by stepping on it.

"Now what?" whispered Lissa, voice muffled by her pinched nose.

Jack peered over the stand. The barbarians must've picked this area clean: those in the general vicinity, six in total, were all hanging out at the other end of a bridge crossing a duct running through town.

He cursed himself: Jack had gone on without enough tactical data. He had assumed that Lissa and himself could simply slink from cover to cover until they reached the bandits' leader and then spring their attack.

But in order to get across he'd either have to stroll right down that bridge in the center shouting "Here we are!" or swim across the duct.

Another thing that Jack was unsure of: whether or not he could swim. And now was not the time to test that hypothesis.

"We'll have to cross the bridge," whispered Jack.

"What!?" Lissa clamped her hands over her mouth. Jack frantically peeked around the corner. None of the brigands had noticed. "_What!?_" Lissa hissed, "They'd see us coming!"

"Well, at this moment and time we don't have many more options." By now, Captain Iroquin and his men, along with Chrom and Frederick, should've engaged the brigands. Even with the skill of two Shepherds and superior positioning on their side, Jack knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed or the leader decided to join the festivities himself.

"We'll be killed!" protested Lissa, "Can't you just stand on this side of the river and blast them with Thunder?"

Jack shook his head. "Too far. I'd probably nail a few of 'em, but distance lessens the potency of magic, so I wouldn't get in any kill-shots. The rest would take cover, too, so there's no guarantee I'd get the leader…"

"It's better than just walking over there!"

"Well, I'll think of something on the way." Without another word, Jack got up and walked around the stand. Lissa held out a hand to stop him and quickly recoiled it as he left. She hugged her stave close to her chest and whimpered.

"What would Emmeryn do…?"

_She'd tell you to be brave_, said a little voice deep inside of her, _And to never abandon your friends. Have courage. And if you can't find any of your own, borrow some. It will just give the other person more._

Groaning, Lissa scampered to her feet and followed Jack.

"Have a change of heart?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Kinda…but if we die, I'm never speaking to you again!"

"Noted."

Over at the other end of the bridge, the approach of the two loan teens had finally been taken notice of. One of the brigands chuckled.

"Oi, Garrik, take a look 'a this."

The largest of them all looked up from the pouch of gold he had looted from one of the market booths and was in the process of counting. He kept getting lost at four. He never really could remember what came after four…

"Ey there, you two!" he hollered, "Fixin' to cross my bridge? There's a toll, I'll have you know!"

The rest of his compatriots burst out in uproarious laughter. Undeterred, Jack continued to cross. Behind him, Lissa whimpered and hugged her stave close. Second, third, and fourth thoughts were being had.

"Don't worry about them," comforted Jack, "I have a plan."

"I thought you said that you didn't…" mumbled Lissa, eyes flicking nervously from bandit to bandit.

"Ah, well, I'm sure it'll come to me."

"B-but…YOU JUST SAID YOU HAD A PLAN!"

"And that's my plan!" he said matter-of-factly, "Wait until a plan comes to me. I hopes it's a good one…"

"You and me both…" mumbled Lissa, gulping.

One of the bandits on the other side looked up to the leader for approval. Garrik nodded, and the bandit strode forward.

Jack almost started laughing. Striding towards him with "murderous" intent was by far the most pathetic bandit he could've possibly ever concocted even in the wildest of dreams. His deer bone helmet constantly sagged over his face and required adjustment. His animal fur tunic hung off of his scrawny frame and revealed his boney (and quite hairless) chest.

About a quarter of the way across the bridge, Jack stopped. Lissa halted very quickly after, backing up a few paces.

"Stay right where you are, Ylissean freak!" he squeaked in a hoarse adolescent voice. He brought up his sword, a rusty bronze piece of garbage that even his scrawny arms could barely hold up.

"So…are you here to fight me, or are you here to collect that toll I heard about?" Jack teased, reaching into his pocket. "I'm sure I have a few copper pieces here somewhere…"

A few of the bandits back at the steps of Town Hall snickered at the remark. The bandit confronting the two Ylisseans, Farley was his name, was the newest and youngest member of their group. For the duration of his two week employment in their band, Farley had been assaulted with jesting and teasing and all sorts of torment.

Now, in his first opportunity to prove himself as a warrior, one that he had sought out for weeks now, he was being taunted by his enemy, too! The enemy that should be cowering beneath him! That did not fly with Farley.

"You think you're funny, huh!? Well, we'll see how funny you think you are when I rip your throat out and hang it on my wall!"

"You _do _realize that the throat is generally defined as a collection of two major organs in your neck area, right?" inquired Jack, tapping his own throat. "So, make up your mind: are you after my pharynx or my larynx?"

Farley hesitated for a moment, thinking. "Hey, wait a-"

BZZZZZZZZZZT!

The remaining five brigands whipped their heads up in astonishment as Farley slammed into the building creating quite the cloud of dust and debris. Jaws agape, they turned back to Jack, who lowered his crackling hand.

He flinched. "Ooooh! _That _is gonna leave a mark." Jack took a few more steps forward, stopping to pick up the sword that Farley had dropped. He flicked it downwards a couple of times to test its weight and dynamics.

"Not bad…and just in my size. You guys are so thoughtful!"

Two more brigands looked each other in the eye and nodded. One was an axe-wielding brute much like the rest of the bandit uniform. The other was a mage, slender in build but still exponentially more intimidating than Farley. Farley may have been a scrub, but no one mouthed off to and then embarrassed a member of the Garrik gang and got away with it.

The heavier brute took point, charging in with his axe. The other one hung back to cover him, thinking that a melee/range combo would be darn near impossible for a lone mage and his cleric to counter.

Jack broke out in a cold sweat. Bandits definitely weren't the sharpest swords in the armory, but they knew basic strategy.

However, Jack was well adversed _advanced _strategy. His mind thought quick and his body acted in such accordance. That axe gnarly looking axe could easily split him in half if it scored a direct hit, and even so if not direct it could probably crush whatever bones it hit or just reeve them off.

Jack didn't exactly pay attention to his thoughts as he charged forward, instead choosing to trust the instincts that seemed to flood through him as the battle reached a fever pitch. Though the thoughts were somewhat along the lines of: "Bandit. Big. Strong. Magic won't stop. Sword. Long. Reach. Axe. Big. Heavy."

"Grrrrrrah!" In one fluid motion Jack invalidated the charge. Perhaps if the bandit had chosen to raise the axe over his head for a downward strike he would've prevailed, but that thought had not occurred. The axe remained clutched in his right hand as he charged.

Jack hooked his sword around the bottom curl of the axe and jerked his arm upwards, using the brute's own movements against him. The axe raised over the brigand's head far too fast for him to control, causing him to stumble backwards. And leave himself vulnerable.

Lightning filled the palm of Jack's left hand, which he thrust forward and into the brigand's exposed gut. The now weaponized bandit plowed backwards into his mage buddy, who became entombed beneath the wall of muscle. Unable to move the brute off of him, the mae floundered his arms as he slowly ran out of air.

"Wooohooo!" cheered Lissa, jumping up and down. "Show em, Jack!"

Garrik snarled and shot to his feet, grabbing his double bladed axe. His remaining two men exchanged nervous glances: things often got messy when Garrik was provoked. As bandits, the two had naturally seen some pretty hairy things, but there was still only so much their stomachs could take.

Jack had turned around for a brief showboat and curtain call as his teammate cheered him on. "Thank you, thank you! You're most kind!"

Lissa stopped mid clap, his stave clattering to the ground. Jack looked up in confusion, mid bow. Lissa responded by squeaking, one hand pointing over Jack's shoulder and the other supplying her mouth with nails to chew on.

Jack turned around and cleared his throat. "And for my next trick, I'm going to make a meathead disappear."

"Awright, funny man. I'm tired 'a yer jokes." Garrik slammed the shaft of his axe into the palm of his other hand. "How 'bout this: you give me all yer money _and _the girly, and I won't cut out yer tongue. Deal?"

Lissa squeaked again. She had heard stories of what slavers did to pretty ladies when they took them away. And it surely wasn't to take them shopping and buy them a lollipop.

Jack's face contorted in silent rage. Lissa was his responsibility. Heck, he might even go as far as to call her a friend. But he had literally sworn his life in exchange for Chrom's trust with his sister. Jack might not have remembered what kind of person he was before the amnesia, but right now he was the type that wouldn't take an oath lightly. And for now, that was good enough.

"How about _this_: you collect your buddies, call off the rest of your mercs, leave, and I might consider not smiting you where you stand." Jack stared lightning bolts at Garrik, who himself hesitated for a moment before responding.

"Well then," he said, grinning, "Too bad we couldn't reach an agreement."

Jack nodded, and pointed to his axe. "True. That plegium?"

"Why, yes it is." Garrick held the blade of his axe within kissing distance of his face. He loved the thing. He was truly infatuated with the weapon; he considered it more of a family member than he did his companions. Garrick never passed up an opportunity to brag about the wonder of craftsmanship, even to those he was about to maim with it.

"Good to know." Jack raised his left arm up, palm flat to the sky. A ball of electricity began to form. Garrick raised his axe blade, ready to block. Among the many things that his mighty weapon could ward off, magic was one of them.

Jack let the attack charge for a moment longer. Then, he thrust it…into the water next to him. The bolt of energy shot into the duct without a splash.

Lissa gasped. _What is he thinking!? I-Is he giving up?_

Garrick too was confused. He lowered his axe slightly and opened his mouth to form a question. Jack held up a finger.

"Give it a minute…"

There was a dull thud, muffled by many gallons of water. The bridge shook ever so slightly, and then stopped.

"Ha!" chortled Garrick. "Didja actually think-"

SPLOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

From the canal exploded a great fountain of water as Jack's Thunder attack struck the bottom and caused a chain reaction. Garrick shot him one more slack jawed look, as the ordeal began to wear on his patience more and more.

And then the rain started. Droplets of water from the canal poured down on the bridge, pattering against the stone conduit. Garrick, a lifelong native of a dry desert nation, was instantly unnerved by the sudden artificial shower, shielding his head with his axe and grimacing as the rain touched his skin.

Slowly, Jack began to advance. His sword clattered to the ground as the tactician made his way straight for Garrick. No tricks. No nothing.

Also trying to protect herself from the rain, Lissa had her hands flat on her head when she noticed Jack's "plan." _What's he doing!? He's going to get himself killed!_

"What's this!? You think a little rain's gonna stop me!?" huffed Garrick. "Ha! Ima-huh!?"

Garrick slowly raised his axe to eye level. The great war blade, once a mighty shade of silver was slowly and surely rusting over. With every drop of rain that touched the axe's surface, a splash of orange-brown corrosion would spread on its surface.

"Plegium is a desert metal," explained Jack as he advanced, "Thousands of years in a dry environment as such has hardened it considerably as ore veins have benefitted from the minerals in the ground. Very hard; you could probably stab it was a diamond spear and barely make a dent. But get it wet? Water makes plegium rust like fire makes paper burn."

Garrick's lip quivered. "H-how-?"

"And that's not the only thing I came up with just by knowing you were a Plegian, pal." Jack was now standing toe to toe with the frightened barbarian, staring right up the nostrils of the larger man who couldn't even look him in the eye, he was so afraid. "I'm gonna also guess that since you're Plegian…"

He pulled Garrick down gently and whispered, _"…you can't swim."_

Jack's free fist buzzed with electricity and he uppercutted Garrick's jaw. There was an electric jolt and then a pop as Garrick flew over the side of the bridge and landed in the canal with an unceremonious splash.

Rushing to the edge of the river, as the themselves could not swim as well, Garrick's remaining two men peered over the side. A few bubbles trickled to the surface of the water. Then a helemt of bones. And nothing more.

Their heads immediately swiveled to Jack, who was flexing the fingers on his left hand. He nodded to them and they immediately broke into a sprint.

One stopped. The look of fear on his face intensified as he watched Jack's punching hand.

"Th-that mark…"

Jack himself was baffled, and recoiled his hand as the other brigand took off once again. It was the purple mark, the one that he had noticed upon waking up.

Why would a seasoned outlaw be afraid of a little purple tattoo? Was it maybe some sort of prison or gang markings? A sorcerer's brand? Was this some sort of…death mark?

Whatever it was it was enough to scare off a grown man who had just threatened him with death. Until Jack figured out what this meant, perhaps it would be better to keep it under wraps. That Frederick guy seemed to want any and all evidence against him…gods forbid he found out.

Lissa let out a victorious whoop and clattered down the bridge after Jack. "That was awesome! You didn't even _need _me here."

"Well, my fist kinds hurts after I decked that guy…" Jack nearly revealed his hand to Lissa before quickly recoiling it. Lissa gave him a puzzled sideways look.

"Gimmie your hand, silly, so I can heal it!"

"O-on second thought, maybe I just need a pair of gloves." Jack sweatdropped as he nervously covered his tracks. He turned around and quickly changed the subject. "I've gotta admit though, Lissa, for a kid you handled yourself pretty good."

The blonde cleric stomped a booted foot on the ground. "I'm fifteen!"

"Sorry, my bad." Jack surveyed the ground and spotted a fallen Southtown soldier. On his hands were a pair of leather gloves that looked about Jack's size. The amnesiac knelt down before the fallen guard and relieved him of his hand wear. He wouldn't be needing them anymore, but all the same Jack whispered a silent prayer to the spirit.

After all that was going on, he wanted to avoid all the taboo that he possibly could.

…

The news of Garrick's demise spread quickly through the ranks of Southtown's raiders once Jack scared off the remaining two brigands. Chaos quickly spread through the ranks of the attackers, allowing Chrom and Captain Iroquin's men to turn the tides for good. Many bandits had fallen, some escaped, but a good number had been captured and were being primed to stand trial for crimes against the realm.

Before he could so much as breath a word to Jack or his companion, Lissa tackled her brother in a hug, overjoyed to see him alive and unharmed. She excitedly jabbered away at how Jack had singlehandedly taken down all of his attackers and not let them lay a single hand on her.

"I'm glad to hear everything went well," Chrom said to his sister before clasping Jack's hand once again. "Well, it looks like your word is just as valuable as you claim."

Jack grinned. "Hopefully, we'll find out just _who _I am sooner than later."

"Something I can finally agree with you on," said Frederick, a little mellower than usual. He still did not completely trust Jack; the entire Southtown battle could have been a deliberate ruse. But as a man of Frederick noble and honorable standing you tended to repay kindnesses towards those who helped your masters.

As Chrom and Jack stepped to the side to talk a bit more about the details, Frederick hopped off of his horse to get some ground time. A couple hours riding, whether in battle or out, could be murder on the legs. And since Frederick desired to head back out on the road to the capitol as soon as possible, now would be as good a time as any.

"Psst! Hey, big guy! Over here!"

Frederick glanced down to his side. Tied up on his knees was one of the brigands captured after the battle had ended. The three soldiers guarding them were in their own conversation and did not notice. The bandit looked like he had something very important to say.

"Speak quickly before I decide not to listen," Frederick said stone-faced, "Your men caused great harm to my people on this day. Why shouldn't I turn a blind ear?"

"Cause I can tell you don't like that guy!" He jerked his head towards Jack.

"What?"

"Listen, there's somethin' about him you should know. Somethin-"

As the bandit raised his voice one of the soldiers finally took notice. He walked over and whacked the bandit over the head with the butt of his spear.

"Quiet, you!" he growled as he dragged the bandit to his feet and nodded apologetically to Frederick. "Sorry if this one's bothering you. I'll take him to the brig right away."

Frederick nodded and watched as the bandit was dragged towards the guardhouse. The bandit seemed confused that he had just offered help and was being completely ignored.

_We'll talk later, _whispered Frederick's eyes as he turned away.

…

_Later that afternoon…_

The bandit, Skully was his name, sat alone in the dingy prison cell in the cellar of the ruined guardhouse. He knew that he found himself in this particular cell out of spite: his men had destroyed this very building, after all. It only made sense that he would be stuck in the cell with an unpleasant odor wafting from the walls.

And he was pretty sure he heard rats…

"Where is that Shepherd…" he wondered aloud, rubbing his sore wrists. Something about that cloaked guy who took down Garrick and the others was very, very wrong. Why a Shepherd would let a monster like him into their ranks was beyond Skully's pay grade to speculate. But, seeing as he'd soon be a forced resident of Ylisse (if they decided to let him live) it was his civic duty to tell.

Skully's head nodded upwards as he heard the clacking off boots coming from down the hallway. His heart fluttered for a moment, hoping this was his way out. But he soon realized that the pounding of feet was far too light and graceful. It sounded more like a pointed heel, not a metal boot.

Around the corner came a slim hooded figure. She seemed a great many things, but none of them were Shepherd, guard, or anyone Skully recognized for that matter.

"W-who are you?" stammered Skully, clambering to his feet.

"Peace, friend," she cooed, with a saccharine voice as smooth as silk, "I'm on your side."

Skully let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Desert Mother. Now, are you here to spring me?"

"Yes…and no."

"Huh?" Skully blinked and ran to the bars. His knuckles turned white as he gripped them. "Please! Get me out of here! I…I have important information!"

A pale hand reached out of the cloak, and a back talon-like fingernail tapped Skully on the nose. "Patience, patience. I know all you could tell, my dear."

"B-but-"

"Fear not. You will serve our land yet." Slowly, her other hand reached into the cloak. Skully watched hypnotically as she slowly pulled out…a tome.

He leapt back. "No! No, please I-"

Golden rings of light glowed around the stranger's free hand. Skully turned to run (where he planned to go, she knew not) but the hammer fell all the same. Lightning magic struck him in the back, slamming him against the wall. The basement's weakened infrastructure shuddered, a few pebbles dropping from the ceiling.

"Plegia salutes you," giggled the stranger as she slunk back into the darkness as quietly as she had come.

Several minutes later, four guards and a tall broad shouldered Shepherd raced into the basement to find Skully in a smoldering pile at the other end of his cell. Two rushed in, with their mage staying back in case it was some sort of trap.

"He's dead," announced one of them, "Lightning magic, from the looks of it."

Frederick grimaced. His only lead was now dead. Assassinated. And he knew just who to go to first.

The cloaked woman, still enshrouded in darkness, grinned. Licking her lips, she crept back and vanished for good.

* * *

**Shadow lady is up to something...can you guess who she is? She's a cannon character in the game, and she's also going to play a major role later on. But what would she have to gain from killing the only person who knew of Jack's mark...?**

**You probably noticed the quote at the beginning of the chapter. I think for every chapter from now on I'm gonna had a quote that kinda ties into the theme or what's going on. I got the idea from this awesome Mass Effect fanfic I just finished reading called "And the Meek Shall Inherit the Galaxy" by Full-Paragon. You should check it out!**

**As for OC submission, which is still open, I've been getting a lot of manaketes lately. So maybe we could see some representatives from other races as well a little more, humanity included! Manaketes aren't banned, I'd just like this to be kept in mind.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Send in an OC if you haven't already, and I hope you stick around for the next chapter! Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4: Unwelcome Change Part I

**"Change is a welcome friend...but only if is invited."**

**-Shane Pendley**

* * *

Needless to say, that day had not been the best an amnesiac could have asked for to ease him back into the land of the living. He had experienced morning sickness, had almost been executed, was burned, cut, whacked, and had to work through a killer migraine.

Despite all this Jack forged onward. It was only because of Chrom's good graces that he remained with the happy little troupe after all; for some reason Frederick had grown even more icy towards him than he had been, even after the whole "proving his loyalty" thing. The knight kept a good ten paces behind his three companions on horseback.

Frederick claimed to be covering the rear. Jack knew that there was only one "rear" the Frederick the Wary was worried about…

It was nighttime now, and the moon was high up in the sky of a rich dark shade of blue, adorned with millions of twinkling stars. Much to Lissa's dismay, Chrom had refused the generous offers of Southtown's citizens to stay the night and obtain a hot meal.

Jack at first respected Chrom's decision (he still did) but it wasn't until he hiked for several hours through the woods that he understood that being out cold in the middle of a field for X amount of time can really put an ache in one's belly. For all he knew, Jack's last meal could have been a week ago.

Chrom stopped and surveyed the area around them. It was a quaint little clearing with fluffy grass and a thin brush surrounding it leaving nowhere for unexpected guests to stow away.

"This looks like as good a spot as any," declared the captain, "Let's set up camp and get something inside of us."

"Ugh…finally…" Dragging her feet, Lissa trudged up behind her brother. The younger Shepherd was quite apparently not used to this intensity of travel. She flopped down on the grass, surrendering to sleep.

Frederick stopped beside her and hopped off of his horse. "We've yet to finish for the night, milady. Best to get up so that you don't get too comfortable."

"But I'm tiiiiiiiired…" moaned Lissa, face down in the grass.

"Remember, milady, hard work builds character," counseled Frederick.

"I've built enough 'character' for the day, thank you very much," grumbled Lissa, propping herself up on an elbow. "I suppose I could clear us out a spot…"

Chrom nodded. "Good idea. I'll get a fire going."

"I could go look for some food," offered Jack, taking out his tome. He grinned as he pictured a bolt of Thunder frying a plump bird midflight, eliminating the need to cook it.

Frederick glared warily at him. "I'll come with you…"

"Another good idea," concurred Chrom, "Best not to go out into the woods by yourself at this time of night. It's dangerous to go alone."

Jack nodded reluctantly. While he knew Frederick was an honorable man and that it was not his style to simply stab him in the back while hunting, it didn't take a mathematician to figure out this equation. Frederick didn't trust him. At all.

_Something tells me that even if he sees me obtain it, he won't eat the food that _I _gather, _Jack thought to himself as the two made for the woods. Frederick, of course, in the back.

…

Chrom sunk his teeth into the roasted meat, ripping out another chunk that would make even a Plegian proud. The hunt had been very successful, providing food for the next three days at the very least. But in the end, Jack's two quails and chipmunk were put way to shame by Frederick's bear.

The three men of the group glutinously gorged themselves. Lissa sat at the other side of the fire, arms crossed, wishing they'd show a little more decency. Though in their defense they had just saved an entire town and walked many kilometers nonstop afterwards. They deserved a little chow.

Sighing, Chrom wiped his face. "That was _delicious_! We need to eat bear more often!"

"I disagree…" mumbled Lissa, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you, milord," said Frederick, "Cooking is not something I pride myself in above all else, but if it suffices to please you, it is what shall be done."

"Frederick, that bear didn't even stand a _chance_! Where did you learn to fight like that?" inquired Jack, finishing his own meat.

Stone faced, Frederick put down his food. "If you're interested about my techniques, I suggest that you-"

"Frederick, calm down," chortled Chrom, "He's just impressed, is all. Be flattered!"

_Oh, _impressed_, eh? I'll be impressed if he actually gets me to divulge my secrets…_Frederick's upper lip curled ever so slightly. He was obligated as a knight to do whatever his superior ordered him to do, but fulfilling Chrom's wishes didn't make him feel any better about talking strategy with Jack.

"I wouldn't worry about it, anyway. You'll be receiving that training soon," interrupted Lissa. Frederick silently thanked the young lady for her impulsiveness. Quickly though, confusion set in.

"Milady, I don't quite catch your meaning."

Jack scratched his head. "No offense, Lissa, but I'm a little confused too."

"Well, you are going to join the Shepherds once we get back home, right?" Lissa shrugged and looked at Chrom. "I mean, he proved his wasn't an enemy in Southtown, right? So why else would he be coming?"

"B-but, milord! We can't just go around scooping recruits out of the meadows!" rebutted Frederick, "We have a very rigid selection process to join the corps!"

"Uh, did you _see_ him take out those bandits?" sassed Lissa. "I did. And it was fantastic! Not to mention his plan totally saved our butts! We'd have to be idiots to turn him away!"

"Milady, I-"

"Stop!" Chrom stood up, Frederick and Lissa's eyes affixed on him. Jack remained on the same bite of chipmunk that he had been on since the argument began; he had been simply dumbfounded that he was causing so much trouble for these people.

Seeing as his sister and advisor had finished speaking, Chrom sighed and sat back down. "Listen, we've had a rough day and I can understand that we're all tired. So why not just turn in now and discuss this in the morning." He turned to Jack. "Does that seem fair to you?"

Jack nodded. _Well, at least they're not treating me like a pet that Lissa wants to keep and actually giving me a say in it…_

"Sounds good to me," said Lissa, making herself comfortable in the grass. "G'night, everyone."

"Goodnight," agreed Jack, wrapping his cloak around him tighter to protect from the night winds. Sleep crept from his weakened eyelids to the rest of his body, peacefully bringing him under. It went without saying that he couldn't remember the last good night's sleep in a while, considering the last one was riddled with forgotten nightmares and restlessness, but all in all this would do him plenty good.

He had awaken in the middle of a field without his memories, on the darker side. But on the bright side he had been discovered by a group of people who were fully willing to help him get them back, saved an entire town, and perhaps even found a place for himself.

How could this night get any better?

…

Chrom awoke with a start, a sharp pain stabbing through his thigh. His first reaction was to immediately clamp his hands over his mouth so that he didn't wake anyone with his ruckus.

He calmed down quickly once he realized that the pain came from neither an attack nor a bug bite, simply him rolling over and pressing against the hilt of his sword.

Chrome shifted positions one final time and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, but sleep did not take him as easily as it had before. If anything he felt a bit more…restless. His head was buzzing with activity.

_Perhaps a walk will do me some good, _he thought, pulling himself up to his feet. He reached down and, after securing Falchion to his waist, began to walk out from the clearing.

"Ditching us so soon?"

Startled, Chrom whirled around with sword in hand. Lissa, still lying on the ground, rolled her eyes.

"Don't point that thing at me, brother dear," she whispered as she sat up and crossed her legs.

Chrom sighed. "Please don't scare me like that, Lissa."

Lissa moved her fingers up and down in the motion of a mouth moving, mimicking Chrom. "You pointed a sword at me!" she then hissed.

"I'm sorry…I've just got a lot on my mind," sighed Chrom.

Lissa scrambled to her feet. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, I was just about to go on a little walk…wanna come along?" offered Chrom.

"Alright. Just let me get my stave in case you walk into a tree or something."

Chrom chuckled and startled ahead, his sister catching up with him a few seconds later. Clearing away a large branch that blocked their path, Chrom and Lissa exited the clearing, leaving Frederick and Jack asleep.

As they went the two took careful notice of their surroundings and turned certain things into mental landmarks so that they would not get lost on the return trip. It wouldn't do to have Jack and Frederick to wake up missing their leader and cleric; effectively half of their four man army,

The siblings enjoyed the tranquility of the midnight forest. Crickets sang their nocturnal chorus, with the swaying of the trees in the gentle breeze supplying them with a serene instrumental. A babbling brook even made itself heard as Chrom and Lissa moved on their way. Chrom smiled; he'd always loved the sound of moving water.

For the longest time the two didn't speak, simply seeking each other's company supplemented by the nighttime air to calm them. Finally, Chrom broke the silence.

"You really trust Jack, don't you?" he asked his little sister.

"Of course I do! He helped Southtown, which means he helped Ylisse, which means he helped us! We owe him!" Lissa stared up at Chrom with a certain determination he seldom saw in the cleric. She was defending something she truly believed in.

"Well, I trust him too," Chrom admitted, then added, "Though I wish Frederick shared our faith. That'd make things a whole lot easier…"

Lissa looked up at her brother as he stared out into space. "And I still think he'd be a great addition to the Shepherds! We haven't had a dedicated tactician in years, since before I even joined!"

"He'd definitely help us out in a lot of things," agreed Chrom.

Ever since Jankins, their last tactician, perished when a plan went bad nigh on four years ago, the position of Tactician had remained unfilled for the Shepherds. Once Chrom became leader shortly after Jankins's death he had made up most strategies himself and kept an open door policy for when those under him had ideas.

But even his strategies had their faults. He was, after all, a leader and warrior at heart. He excelled at giving and following orders, not necessarily making them fool-proof. One day unofficially on the job and Jack had proven excellent in all of those areas.

There was a pause as Lissa shifted to a somber stance. "Chrom…is there going to be a war?"

"I don't know, Lissa…" Chrom reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "But if there is, I promise you that nothing bad will happen. People like King Gangrel don't win. The good guys do."

There were lies and truths in that. Chrom knew at heart that war was inevitable; the Mad King would prod Ylisse's borders until her hand was forced. And he also knew that while Ylisse's forces were better trained, Plegia's were more numerous. And if they were to launch a surprise attack, the scales would quickly tip in their favor.

Part of Chrom selfishly wanted that war. So that he could show people like Gangrel that House Ylisse was not to be trifled with. While that was the part of him that spoke the loudest, the part that spoke the truest was that which told him war was wrong. That he must seek peace wherever possible and repair old wounds rather than inflict new ones.

This was the part that he suspected Emmeryn was largely responsible for bringing into being.

Another thing Chrom was split over was Lissa. He was ever so proud of how much she had grown over the past few years, stepping up to join the Shepherds and aid their cause in any way she could. But she was also so young and already so imperiled. And Chrom knew not whether she was still young enough to be buying his reassuring lies.

But he'd be happy if she was.

He sighed. "Listen, I-"

Without warning, the ground itself bucked. Lissa shrieked and stumbled into Chrom, who caught her. Chrom's could feel his brain shaking around inside of his head as the whole world rumbled.

"In the name of the gods-!"

A sonic boom which could not be rivaled by a thousand explosions tore through the forest, drowning out both Lissa's scream and Chrom's growl. The warrior held his footing and his sister as the shaking intensified.

He looked up to see a wall of trees collapsing in a straight line, heading straight for them.

"Lissa, run…" Chrom mumbled, staring up at the wall of destruction with disbelief. He snapped out of it and looked quickly back to Lissa. "Go!"

Lissa took off in the opposite direction; she knew better than to fight with Chrom on issues like this. Chrom held his stance for one last minute moment. _What could be causing this much destruct-_

_BWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!_

An entire earthen shelf split from the ground and began to rise skyward, cracks and crevices snaking across the forest floor and spreading destruction wherever the rocky fingers touched.

Chrom broke into a run when fire spewed from the cracks, sending a pillar of molten magma skyward.

And then it began to rain. It began to rain fire.

…

Jack woke with a start, immediately rolling onto his rear and sitting up. Something felt wrong…there was a negative feeling that seemed to hang in the air.

Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed the distinct lack of a Chrom and a Lissa. Their absence alone surely couldn't have woken him up. From the indents in the grass from their boots it seemed they had been gone for hours.

Jack was just about to get to his feet when he felt a cold tip prod gently into the back of his neck.

"Where…are…they…" a gruff voice demanded slowly.

"You know, Frederick, for a big guy you sure do move-"

"I'm not here to play games!" shouted the knight. "Where are Sir Chrom and Lady Lissa?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Are _we _seriously doing this right now? I'm trying to figure that out, too."

One of Frederick's beefy hands clamped down on Jack's shoulder and spun him around at a painful angle, forcing Jack to stare into Frederick steely grey eyes. His nostrils huffed and Jack suspected the time for lighthearted jests was not now.

"Listen, stranger, I know what you did to that prisoner back in Southtown. The specific prisoner who knew something about you!"

"Alright, I'm lost already. I-"

"Don't play dumb with me!" Frederick's grip intensified. He shook Jack. "Listen well, stranger: no harm will fall upon milord and milady as long as I am around. I will fulfill my duty as a Knight of Ylisse and protect them with my life, even if-"

_BWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!_

The ground shuddered, jarring Frederick and Jack slightly. The two stared deep into the woods as several flocks of birds took flight to escape whatever calamity took place deep within.

Jack spoke quickly before Frederick could. "Okay, you can't blame me for that. And if your big job is to protect Chrom and Lissa, than we'd better make sure that they aren't-"

A great orange glow erupted from several clicks away. Squinting his eyes, Jack would've sworn that he saw a wall of magma erupting from the earth.

"-near that giant wall of flame…okay, first off: could an earthquake really destabilize the forest floor to the point where magma could surface? I mean, seriously, the crack would have to be like several kilometers down!"

Frederick sighed and hopped onto Pallus's back. "You were saying?"

"Oh? Right!" Jack scratched his head sheepishly, realizing he had gone on a logical tangent. "Our priority is to find Chrom and Lissa. We can hate each other later."

"For once, stranger, I think I can agree with you."

"You didn't let me finish." Jack pointed to the burning forest. "And given our track record so far, our best bet would be to head towards the lava spout of doom first."

Frederick frowned. "And here is where the agreeing stops."

…

_Wear the armor, he said! It'll protect you, he said!_

At the moment, all the light armor that Chrom had coerced Lissa into wearing was serving to only slow her down. And she doubted that it would defend against the massive fireballs that were slamming into the earth.

The forest burned around her, smoke and fire forming a lethal prison for which there seemed no escape. Every time Lissa was prepared to head in a given direction she'd hear a whistling roar above her head and a fireball would slam into the ground, forcing her to change course.

And Chrom? She wasn't even sure he was still behind her. Heck, she could barely even hear her own breathing over the din of the forest blaze.

It was chaos. It was death. And it was closing in by the second.

Lissa's legs wobbled and pain shot through her knee as she attempted to compensate for her muscles as they began to turn to jelly. She recalled a particular side note in training that her teacher had brought up when studying the patterns of bandit raids in that they preferred burning.

Lissa and her fellows had been taught that even more dangerous than the flames itself when trapped in a fire was the smoke, which could kill you in mere minutes from oxygen deprivation and lung poisoning.

The only other things she remembered were not to touch metal objects such as doorknobs and to roll on the ground if she caught fire. And considering that there was no metal for miles and she'd probably just roll into more fire, those lessons were useless.

A faint caught barked in Lissa's earshot. _Oh great! If it wasn't enough that my throat is numb, now my ears are going, too!_

Lissa felt a gentle shove on her back and realized that it hadn't been her who had coughed, but Chrom, who was catching up with her. But there was no time for celebration.

"This way!" he commanded, leading them through a thicket. Chrom wrapped a muscled arm around his sister's shoulders and leapt off of the ledge that waited on the side, dropping a good fifteen feet before coming into a roll to prevent any bone breakage.

Lissa rolled out of his grip and lie flat on her back, panting. Her stave rolled out of her hand and onto the ground a few inches from her fingertips.

Chrom rolled onto his hands and knees, letting out a few more dry coughs before slowly standing.

"We have to get out of here," he croaked, helping his sister up.

Lissa coughed one more time. "You think? I-" She stopped midsentence, staring at the space past Chrom's shoulder. Her jaw slowly dropped in horror. "Chrom, what _is _that!?"

Chrom spun around just as the event began. As if the forest itself spontaneously _exploding _hadn't been enough, now this spectacle was taking place in the sky.

As sudden as an arrow hit its target, all fell silent. No roaring of flames. No crashing of trees or grinding of stones. Just silence as speckles of light pooled wildly in the air.

The glowing formation faded abruptly, and not milliseconds later the portal silently exploded from where the light had been. A great mass darker than the night sky itself was surrounded by a golden circle of light decorated by ancient runes and insignias not too unlike that which surrounded a mage when performing a spell.

The great gate hung above the earth for not another moment before a great eye of crystal flicked open in the center, revealing a luminescent blue beyond.

And then…_they _appeared.

Oozing out from the almost liquid surface of the portal's epicenter were two manlike creatures clad in filthy dark armor. They groaned and squealed, the likes of which a maddened beast would not even utter.

They fell into the brush, and rose slowly in the shadows, their movements swaying and uncanny. Their piercing red eyes shone through the dark, and Chrom detected the distinct outlines of axes in both of their hands.

_If they're smart enough to hold weapons, _Chrom rationalized, _Then they're strong enough to use them…_

"Lissa, you'd better stand back," ordered Chrom, drawing Falchion. Lissa nodded nervously and backpedaled to a safe distance.

The two creatures hobbled out from the darkness, and one uttered a terrifying roar. Sick purple haze drifted from its mouth, the rancid smell reaching Chrom several meters away.

And then, with speed far higher than estimated from such a indolent creature, it charged and leapt in the air, axe poised to strike.

Chrom surged into action, years of training and fighting coming immediately into practice. Battle itself was a muscle memory to Chrom, and that muscle was the brain. Falchion was not the only instrument fine-tuned for battle: he himself was. Falchion was but an extension of himself.

The warrior rushed to an intercept point and slashed at the creature's belly. Chrom heard a thud behind him as it landed, and prepared for another one as he fell to the ground in pieces.

Such a sound never came. Instead, a crunch of bones alerted Chrom that something was very wrong. Flipping around suddenly Chrom saw that the monster had rotated its head a full three hundred and sixty degrees. And it was still hungry.

Snarling, it whipped its axe at Chrom with the intention of removing his head. Pointing Falchion to the ground, Chrom blocked the strike by catching the axe with his blade. Lissa's explanation of Jack's sword vs. axe strategy had him very intrigued. Looks like now was as good a time as any to try it out.

His adversary was strong, but Chrom was stronger. Chrom jerked his sword arm suddenly, sending the monster off balance. He slammed the butt of Falchion into its jaw, thus sending it onto the ground.

In one swift motion, Chrom ended it. He leapt into the air and, before it could get up, jabbed Falchion into the foul beast's back. Letting out one final groan, it dissolved into the purple mist and vanished.

Panting, Chrom supported his aching body with his sword whilst kneeling on the ground. His face, once hot from the flames that had encircled him, was now freezing cold due to the sweat that plastered it in the cold night air.

One of those things…just _one _had tired him to this point. He took no solace in knowing that two had appeared; there was no doubt in Chrom's mind that more would come from the portal in the sky.

This fear came true in a matter of seconds. And perpetuated beyond belief. A shriek that could only belong to one person caught Chrom's ears, sending up immediately to his feet in panic.

"Lissa!"

Chrom's younger sister was being backed up against a rock by two of the Things, hissing at her an approaching with their wild predatory swagger. Lissa shook rampantly and held her staff as a pathetic defense against what was to come: it was all she had.

One of the Thing's snarled and raised its axe, ready to strike her down for no other reason than because it simply could. Chrom, enraged, rushed to his sister's aid. Whether or not he would make it on time was debatable.

As the Thing's axe reached its apex, poised to strike, time seemed to slow down. Up above, the portal began to shimmer and glow with brilliant intensity. In the epicenter, in the crystal eye appeared a distant silhouette, running as if encase in molasses.

He grew closer and closer by the drawn out second, finally reaching the portal's maw. Grunting, the lanky figure began to permeate the portal's surface.

Suddenly, he burst out, black came fluttering like wings in the night sky. He landed and without any further motivation, dashed towards Lissa's attackers.

"GRAHWR!" The Thing brought the axe down to smite Lissa, who let out a squeak and looked away so that she didn't see it coming.

_CLANG!_

Timidly, Lissa opened her eyes. Standing face-to-face with her was the swordsman, his face contorted in strain. Laid flat across his back was his sword, drawing support from his lumbar to black the strike of the stronger opponent.

He had saved her life.

His pained cry snapped Chrom back to reality. "Help!" he snapped in a suggesting tone, as if snidely recommending that Chrom pitch in.

It took no more for a split second for Chrom to react. "Right," he said, nodding, and took off with Falchion drawn.

Chrom made a beeline for the Thing in hopes of flanking it and drawing it off of the swordsman. For that matter, the swordsman had done him one better.

The thing turned around upon hearing Chrom's battle cry, grunting as if to say, "Huuuuh?" In the instant that the swordsman felt the pressure ease from his back, he struck.

Completely ignoring the swordsman, the Thing set its sights on a more pertinent target: Chrom. The young Shepherd was closing fast and would be upon it in seconds. The Thing twirled its axe around and prepared to strike.

Giving the swordsman just enough time to spring his own attack.

Chrom, coincidentally, had just reached optimal distance for a strike at that moment, when the swordsman was in position and the Thing had raised its axe high above its head, presenting the perfect target.

Chrom swung high. The swordsman swung low. A hollow clang resonated through the air as the two blades scraped past each other within the creature's body, each grating past with the precision to clip the wings off of a bee.

The Thing halted all function and its arms fell to its side. It twitched once, and held firm for a moment more. A purple X appeared on its torso, black smoke oozing out. Not a second later it burst into a black pyre and vanished for good.

Back still pressed up against the rock, Lissa gulped. The sudden appearance of the swordsman still made her uneasy. In fact, she know somewhat understood Frederick's attitude towards Jack. He was a stranger with strange intentions, much like their new blonde friend.

To be fair though, he _had _saved her life, never mind the fact that much worse things had dropped from the portal, all of which had tried to do the exact opposite.

Lissa relaxed and lowered her stave. Stepping away from the rock, she examined the stranger as he sheathed his sword. Chrom too pace behind him.

"Quite an entrance," remarked the Shepherd, speaking still to the back of the swordsman's head, "What's your name?"

"Chrom! Lissa!"

The new voice had been so sudden and perfectly timed with the question, Chrom almost assumed that this was the stranger's answer. But it took even less time to discern that the stranger's lips had not even moved, not to mention that the voice was familiar.

"Jack!" cried Lissa, turning towards the forest behind her. Out of the woods came Frederick mounted upon Pallas, with Jack holding on to the back of the horse. Jack hopped off just as soon as Frederick had stopped.

Caught up in the moment, Chrom had turned to greet his allies in their arrival. But he quickly remembered the stranger and turned back around, only to find that he had vanished completely.

* * *

**Ooooooooh...spooooooky. I'm sure NOBODY could POSSIBLY tell who that was!**

**Yup. Complete mystery. Never gonna find out. Ever. CLIFFHANGER!**

**Nah, in all seriousness, A) If you're here, reading this fic, you most likely know everything about this plot except what I'm adding, and B) We'll be wrapping up what was "Chapter 1" in the game next time! So stick around!**

**Just a few notes: I'd just like to clarify, in case anyone was wondering, that I will ****_NOT _****be sticking to the script of the game for anything but those schweet CG custscenes we got at some points throughout the game. So I won't be completely copying the game! Worry not!**

**Also, on the topic of OCs, keep 'em coming! I've got no females yet, so perhaps keep that in mind. **

**Sully: "C'mon, ladies! Never send a man to do a woman's job!"**

**Quiet, you. You'll get to talk plenty next chapter. **

**So, review and send an OC! Later!**


	5. Chapter 5: Unwelcome Change Part II

**"It is your omen, only you know the meaning. To me, it is but another star in the night." **

**-Gerald R. Stanek**

* * *

Chrom was confused. _Very _confused. His warrior senses kicking in as he reacted to danger and his imperiled sister had softened the reality of zombified warriors dropping out of the sky, but their decline had left a gap of sorts for his mind to wonder.

Now, for example, Chrom pondered the logistics of spontaneous teleportation.

"I…I, erm…" Stammering to his approaching comrades, Chrom pointed to where the stranger had just stood, but then shook his head. There were no time to tell tales of disappearing swordsmen from the sky, especially to Frederick.

"We were walking through the woods when the ground exploded!" Lissa exclaimed to Jack, waving her arms to illustrate the gravity of the events that transpired while Jack and Frederick slept.

Jack stroked his chin, overtly stating, "Which, by the way, is completely illogical since there's no way that the tectonic shelf penetrated deep enough to draw magma to the surface…"

Lissa glared at Jack irately, prompting him to grin sheepishly and fold his hands behind his back. "Sorry! Continue, please…"

"Thank you…" Lissa maintained her glare for a moment more, making Jack shiver. A familiar sensation nipped at his consciousness; an itch, almost. Once again he made an inference about his lost memory: that somewhere (or some-_when_) before his amnesia there had been a commanding female figure in his life…a sister? Girlfriend? Wife?

Nah, he too young…

Lissa glared sourly, her patience wearing thin. "As I was _saying_…the forest started catching on fire, and we barely escaped! Then, this giant portal opened up in the sky and these…undead _things _attacked! I would've been killed if it hadn't been for him!" She pointed to where the swordsman had stood only seconds ago. Except, unlike Chrom, Lissa was unaware that he had pulled a disappearing act.

Jack and Frederick both looked over to where Lissa pointed, an otherwise empty location. The young cleric scratched her head, puzzled.

"He left," Chrom informed her, clasping his sister's shoulder. "The important thing now is making sure that his saving our lives wasn't a wasted effort." Chrom raised his sword defiantly into the air. "Shepherds, to arms!"

"Heh, that's a curtain call if I've ever hear one."

Surprised at the new voice, Chrom and Co. turned once again in the direction of the wilderness, where now a woman sat mounted on a powerful looking stallion. Though the dominant aura put off by the horse was _nothing _compared to the woman. She just…_sweated_ confidence.

Or was it arrogance? Jack was having trouble telling.

The newcomer was clad in crimson armor with flecks of silvery white at the joints. Though only her legs and torso were encompassed by the red armor, with left her shoulders bare and hips compensated for with a leather body glove, leading Jack to believe that (if it wasn't obvious enough already with the horse) that she was a cavalier that specialized in steadfast combat. Her skin was creamy and pale, her eyes a rich hazel, and her hair a spikey mess of brownish-red.

She was beautiful, as well she was clearly deadly. Essentially, her entire being was an oxymoron.

Chrom apparently knew who she was. At first it seemed that he was confused to see her here, but it was only logical that he was soon relieved for the extra help. "Sully? I thought you were off-"

"Hunting the giant boar that was harassing these surrounding villages?" Sully's upper lip curled into an exorbitant grin. "Weren't you wondering what was in that head-sized sack tied to the back of Ares?"

"N-not really…" mewed Lissa, balking slightly.

Sully chuckled at the younger girl's dismay. Her gaze flicked to Jack and she mellowed out. "Who's Blondie here?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out…" Frederick mumbled under his breath.

"He's here to help," answer Chrom, ignoring Frederick for the moment. "And I assume so are you? These…_Things _aren't going to take care of themselves."

"Heh. Thought you'd never ask." Sully reached over her back and pulled a meter long spear from its strappings. She stabbed it high into the air, its silvery tip glinting briefly against the moonlight. Ares, her horse, reared and once again helped to illustrate Sully's Amazonian beauty.

"Finally," said Jack, tightening his gloves, "Thought we'd never be ready to stick it to these freaks. I'm curious to see how they fight…"

Sully grunted. "Could say the same about you, Blondie? What's say we have a little contest. Whoever gets the most kills is buyin' when we get back to base!"

Before Jack could even respond, Sully tapped her heel into Ares' belly, sending the horse charging down the hillside and into the thick of enemy holdings. Dumfounded, Jack turned to Chrom.

"Erm…eh…" He licked his lips whilst awkwardly deliberating. "What did she mean?"

Lissa covered her mouth in a fit of giggles. Chrom too bore a slight smile. Curiosity (and fear) burned away in Jack's cheeks. "Though she may seem a bit...unrefined, Sully still has quite expensive tastes when it comes to food."

Jack's eyes bulged from their sockets. "Aw, heck no! I don't have any money!"

"Then you'd better get a-killin'!" Sully shouted over her shoulder, already halfway down the hill.

Seeing no other option that made sense at the moment, Jack shrugged and charged, pulling his tome out from within his jacket. As soon as he reached the cusp of the hill, Jack launched himself high into the air.

Tome clutched in his right hand, the glowing glyphs erupted around him with an intensifying brightness. Down at the bottom of the hill, Jack could spy the forces of the enemy that they currently faced. There were dozens of them tromping through what had once been a forest. Now, it was but ashes and rock.

Jack swept his hand furiously to the left, bringing into being three golden speckles of light. Each glowed for a mere second before launching in the form of deadly magic missiles, one after another.

The entire front line of Things that Sully had been preparing to turn into an undead shish-kebab was annihilated by the magic attack. Startled, Sully yanked back on Ares' reins. The horse skidded through the smoke kicked up from Jacks attack, and also that of the dissolving Things.

"Cheater!" Sully snapped over her shoulder as Jack used the momentum from his leapt to slide down the rest of the hill.

"So what was that, five? Six?" Jack leaned up against Sully's horse and began to nonchalantly examine his fingernails. "I don't know of any good restaurants back in your capitol city. You'll have to show me.

Sully snarled and jerked her leg to the side, sending Jack sprawling onto the ground. As the young man picked himself up dirt was sprayed in his face as Frederick raced by on his horse and into the fray. Chrom arrived by his side just as he got to his feet.

"Don't let this little 'game' get in the way of our true goal," cautioned Chrom, wiping a bit of dust from Jack's shoulder.

"Psh, I'm a professional, Chrom," retorted Sully, "Besides, how could I let an _amateur_ get in my way?"

"Well, amateur or not, looks like the party's coming to us." Jack pointed ahead, where a rather thick pack of Things were charging for them, teeth bared and claws ready to rip the flesh from their bones and then suck out the marrow for good measure. Frederick would no doubt run down some of them, but not all.

"That's our cue. Time to show these things that, wherever they came from, _here _was not the ideal vacation spot!" With that, Chrom drew Falchion and ran to face his enemies.

"Oh no you don't!" Sully chased after him in the rush to rout their foe. Part of Jack suspected that Sully had since forgotten that Chrom was not bound to their agreement…

The crunching of her boots alerted Jack to Lissa taking her final timid steps from the hill. The young cleric held her stave tight to her chest, and the bobbing of her pigtails gave away her profuse shaking rather easily.

"You, uh…you alright?"

Lissa's head bobbed up and down. "Yup. Just…not used to seeing the undead fall from the sky and attack…I'll just hang back and heal you when you get injured. Maybe even keep score for your little game…"

"Sounds like a plan." Jack placed his tome back on the inside of his cloak and substituted it for his sword, the one he had "borrowed" from the bandit in Southtown. He tested the bronze edge with a flick in the air.

_It may be beyond me to speculate why, _he thought as he charged forward, _But somehow, this feels right…_

…

"Seventeen!"

Sully drove her spear into the faceplate of an armored Thing, sending the foul apparition flat onto its back. The impact from Sully's weapon would've had enough force to shatter the bones of a normal human, and there was no doubt that whatever held that thing together was now utterly broken. It writhed on the ground as it went up in smoke and vanished.

Stopping for a brief moment, Sully wiped her sweaty brow. It was unfair, really. In most battles she was able to stop and admire her handiwork. Made her feel right special, too.

All these things left behind were weapons and the occasional tooth or claw, maybe even a piece of armor. Not as satisfying as a pile of vanquished enemies.

"Yo, Chrom!" she shouted as she turned Ares around, "What are you at?"

Chrom was in the thick of things, and on top of that he was in the zone. Enemies came at him in twos and threes. A broad strike from falchion would take down four. Chrom's mind was apart from the physical world: it operated in its own space and drove Chrom to best his opponents with near mechanical efficiency. Chrom himself, when in battle, was a force of nature.

"Don't have time…" _SLASH! _"…for such…" _SHING! _"…nonsense!"

One Thing made the mistake of coming right at him with axe poised to strike. Not even hesitating to think, Chrom bashed its skull with the hilt of Falchion and then split his ghostly opponent clean in half down the middle. It shuddered, and then dissolved with not a millimeter of open space in between.

Panting, Chrom dropped the point of his sword into the ground and rested. It seemed he had finally gotten the hang of fighting the things, but tackling entire droves of them still took it out of him.

Suddenly, a sudden burst of pure energy burst through Chrom's veins, relaxing his muscles and soothing his blood. The warmth spread to every tip of his being as he felt cuts being sealed on instant and bruises flattening back into his skin.

Lissa lowered her staff as the glow faded from its tip. Chrom nodded his appreciation towards his sister and yanked his sword out of the ground. No time to relax: there were still enemies to vanquish.

Chrom, Frederick, and Sully had little difficulty dispatching the many foes that came their way: their individual fighting styles simply catered more efficiently to great feats of strength. Jack was considerably weaker than all three when it came to physical strength, but make no mistake that while his bodily muscles were a bit weaker than those of his companions, there was one particular muscle that Jack could flex a bit more impressively than his allies: his mind.

Jack took his time. He was in no rush to dispatch the four or so demons that surrounded him, out for his blood. Over the past half an hour that number had decreased dramatically, but only monotonously so.

He couldn't exactly explain it, but waiting in battle just seemed…comfortable to him. A Thing would swing its axe at him and as he leapt back, he'd notice an opening for a critical stab on its chest.

But then another voice would speak up and tell him to wait some more. And he did. Jack would continue to dodge and parry and block the strikes of the ravenous horde until the golden opportunity would spring upon him.

All of a sudden, he'd feel a surge of adrenaline and his heart would flutter. He'd then strike viciously and precisely in a fixed point on the creature's body; blasting it in the face with magic or slicing it perfectly across the chest.

In the back of his mind Jack was beginning to suspect that whenever he had developed this strategy in the past, before losing his memory, it had been catered to fighting people and not these…things. It would have made sense for this kind of fighting to eventually tire out a human opponent, but these things just didn't quit.

_Time to end it…_ Parrying one last axe strike with the strategy he had developed in Southtown, Jack let out a furious roar and brought his sword arm back. But he did not strike.

He threw the sword.

The monster he fought sported an open faceplate on its helmet, giving Jack a front-row seat to stare into its soulless ruby eyes and smell its rancid breath throughout their duel. Jack expected the sword to sail right through its head and dissolve it into smoke like the others, but…it just stuck.

Hissing, the monster stumbled back, fruitlessly trying to yank the blade from its forehead. Jack observed the struggle and scratched his head.

"Huh…I liked that sword. Too bad it's a piece of junk…"

_"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"_

Charging at him from behind, spear pointed straight at his chest was another foe. Jack rolled his eyes and casually pulled out his tome. The Thing might as well had sent him a letter ahead of time to tell him the attack was coming.

Jack activated the tome, summoning forth the glowing golden glyphs that he had come to feel quite comfortable standing within. Slowly he reached out his left hand, index and middle finger pointed forward together. A golden glow hung at their tips for but a moment before lancing into the chest of the attacker in the form of a spear of lightning.

Contented, Jack clapped his hands together as if to wipe off dust and turned back around to retrieve his sword. He still heard the sounds of thrashing and hissing, so he inferred that it still must be lodged in the face of the monster.

"Alright, let me give you a h…hand…"

Something caught Jack's eye. It had been a glimmer on the back of his left hand. Slowly he lifted it to parallel his face, and once again was staring straight at the mark that he had observed only yesterday when Chrom had clasped his hand and helped him up.

And then had scared a gnarly bandit senseless.

The marks were glowing yellow, even though the leather glove. Jack panicked. _Does this happen _every time _I use magic!?_

The haze that enclosed Jack's mind seemed to grow thicker and more possessive as he tried to dip back into his subconscious and pull something out. It had happened several times before; even when not directly trying to remember something from his past, if he so much as dipped a metaphorical toe in, it would be like being sucked into a vortex.

Unfortunately for Jack, he couldn't have picked a worse time to go on a blind trip down memory lane. Ever so slightly, the ground shuttered by his feet. Jack, still in dreamland, did not notice.

Until of course the ghoul popped out of the ground like a spring daisy. Jack turned around just in time to get a good look at it. As well as take a trio of claw strikes straight to the chest.

As the new creature's talons raked across his chest, Jack's tactical eye performed a quick analysis of the monster; all he was capable of doing in the face of such an ambush. It looked different from the other Things in that it was far less human in appearance. It resembled a sloppily made dough human model more than an actual man.

It had skin of pale brown, with a sagged leathery head like it was wearing a sack on its head with holes cut out for the mouth and piercing red eyes. Rusted gold jewelry hung from its neck and it wore nothing but a loincloth.

Jack let out a howl of pain as the ghoul's claw slashed his chest, tearing his shirt to pieces. Teeth clenched tightly in pain, Jack fell onto his back and completely at the mercy of the beast.

Everyone stopped when they heard the cry and turned to their wounded comrade. Lissa shrieked and covered her mouth in astonishment, knowing what would come next. Chrom and Sully charged, murder on their minds. Frederick hesitated for a moment, almost in disbelief, but charged nonetheless.

But they wouldn't make it in time.

Whatever this thing was, it wasted no time in formalities. It didn't sniff and growl and size up its prey like the others did. This one was different. Bloodlust and pointless savagery were clearly two separate things in this case.

Looming over Jack, the ghoul raised a claw into the air and prepared for the final strike. There would be no mistakes this time: this was to be the final blow.

_Well…it's all up to me then…_Jack knew that help was not coming. At least, not in time. It was all up to Jack.

And in no time flat, he had a plan.

The pain was incredible, but in the end he managed to pull it off. Jack's teeth clamped down on his lower lip in an effort to distract the his body from the searing pain in his chest as he reached upwards, grabbed onto the hilt of his sword which was still lodged within the skull of the Thing from before, and yanked it out.

In one fluid swipe he had cleaved the ghoul's legs clean off. And a good thing, too. That last swipe had contained all the energy he had left. As soon as the deed was done, his sword flung out of his loose fingers and skittered many meters away.

Snarling, the ghoul fell onto its back like a turtle turned upside-down on its shell. Arms waving wildly in the air, it screamed at the night sky with a furious vengeance. Purple haze was beginning to slowly flow out of its wounds.

Chrom arrived at last, and without a moment's hesitation he plunged his sword into the ghoul's chest, dissipating it for good. Immediately he dropped his sword and fell to one knee, helping Jack up to a sitting position.

"Jack…Jack, are you alright!?" Chrom shook the smaller man's shoulders desperately in hopes of an "I'm okay." Chrom was not used to men dying on his watch. And it certainly was not something that he wanted to get used to.

Jack's head tilted back weakly. Chrom looked hopefully into his eyes.

"F-f…" stammered the blonde, his voice but a slight whisper.

"What? What is it!?"

"F-fi…fifteen…"

With that he went slack, his eyes rolling up into his head. Most worrisome of all was the dribble of white foam that dripped from his mouth and onto the ground.

Frantically, Chrom grabbed one of Jack's limp arms and felt for a pulse. For the moment, he was relieved. "He's alive…but-"

"But whatever that thing was, its claws were infected somethin' nasty," grunted Sully. "Oh, and by the way, I win."

Chrom glared at her and beckoned Lissa forward. The cleric, albeit very nervous, rushed forward.

"I-I'll do my best," she stammered as Chrom positioned the unconscious Jack into a more manageable position. Just as Lissa was raising her stave to work her healing magic, what else could come crashing through the woods but another Thing?

And this one, of course, was the biggest one yet.

It had to be at least the size and weight of two combined oxen and hefted an axe that probably weighed as much as three. With an earthshaking roar, it charged with surprising speed at the Shepherds and Jack.

"Heal him, I got this!" declared Sully, rearing her horse. At the rate they were both going, they'd clash in the center of their aligned path within seconds.

Far too late for Jack to warn them.

As the benign power of Lissa's stave course through his veins, Jack began to slowly come to. And the first thing he saw upon waking up from what had almost been a deadly coma nearly stopped his heart.

"Sully!" he shouted, lurching forward and sending a sharp flare of pain through his ribcage. Through the agonizing discomfort he managed to shout, "Your spear is no match for that thing's axe! It'll smash you before you even get a hit in!"

Sully was too far away and going too fast to hear. And unfortunately, her own ego and bravado prevented her from seeing this as well. To Sully, it was just another opponent. One that, unbenounced to her, was going to swat her aside like a fly.

Hunkering down, Sully prepared for her critical strike just when something went whizzing by her head. The sudden shock caused her to veer slightly to the left and off kilter.

Though she was nearly knocked off of her horse in sheer surprise when the bloodthirsty brute who had just seconds ago been out for her blood staggered to a stop…and then fell face down on the ground.

And just before it did, Sully got a clear-as-day look at the arrow shaft that stuck right out of its forehead like a sore thumb.

"Thor's Hammer, what the-!"

"Oho, my fair lady, one as lovely as yourself mustn't rush headlong into combat so recklessly, no? T'would be a most erroneous way to rob the world of such a radiant beauty."

Almost enraged, Sully reared Ares to get a good hard look at the yellow-bellied coward who sniped her kill.

Perched casually in an oak tree not fifteen meters away was a man who, even when sitting in a tree in the middle of a woods during a battle, managed to make the whole situation make downright classy.

His white collared shirt was without a single spot or ruffle, save for the cosmetic addition to the front of his collar. Sully had never seen such clean leather boots in her entire life, especially not on a man. And his strained blue hair seemed extraordinarily tame and straight for its length.

Everything about this guy just positively screamed classy. His face was suave and cool, without a single blemish. And his pearly white grin made even the moon look dim.

"The heck are you?" demanded Sully.

"Ha! Is the lady intrigued? Of course you are-it's only natural. I am myth and legend! I am he who strides large across history's greatest stage! The man who puts the 'arch' in 'archer'!"

As if the bow laid across his lap didn't already give away that he was an archer. Not to be pretentious, but Sully didn't take much time to assume that, from his looks, this was the type of guy who liked to talk about himself.

Which he continued to do.

"Virion: a name sewn across the shattered shards of broken hearts. Swooned by fair maidens across the land and scorned by the jealous sons of man! Tis my name, sweet Sully, and tis a name that will flutter thine fair heart before long!"

"You the yellow-bellied archer who stole my kill?" barked Sully most bluntly. In Sully's personal dictionary, "archer" translated to "coward." She couldn't stand the fact these stick-flingers had the audacity to call themselves warriors while they stood at a distance and picked off enemies while the real fighters put their lives on the line up front.

And at least mages had the stones to at least be _close _when they did that magical mumbo-jumbo.

Virion was taken aback by the fair maiden's words. "Oh, but my dear sweet Sully, you confuse what I truly am with what you say I am. In truth, I am not an archer!"

"Y-you aren't?" Sully was very confused. If sword plus armor equaled knight, spear plus horse equaled cavalier, and tome plus funny hat equaled mage, didn't bow plus arrows equal archer?

Virion chuckled, dropping down from the tree quite gracefully. "No, I am not an archer, but the _archest _of archers!"

Far behind him but still within earshot, Lissa giggled. "I see what he did there…"

Chrom gave her a stern look and spoke up. "You there. Virion. You're accent, it's…not from around here. Where are you from?"

Virion whirled around and bowed. "Ah, the great Chrom of House Ylisse! How humbled I am before your presence!"

"That doesn't answer milord's question," Frederick growled sternly.

"Ehem…yes. In truth, I have no home!" said Virion wistfully tracing his hand across the night sky. "I go where the wind takes me. When my wings grow weary and I am pleased with the surroundings that I find, I rest!" Virion grinned over his shoulder at Sully. "Needless to say that I am very, very pleased…"

"Oh, stuff it!" snapped Sully.

Jack chuckled. "I like this guy…" Out of the corner of his eye he spied a cloaked figure standing in the shadows, the dark blues of his outfit nearly obscuring him from sight. "Huh…?"

Chrom, Lissa, and Fredericks' heads were collectively drawn to Jack's slight outburst and found the man on their own. Frederick immediately drew his spear and leveled it at the intruder's neck while Chrom and Lissa remained strangely calm.

"Oh…so it's you," said Chrom, addressing the figure as if he were some sort of estranged old friend.

He remained silent, simply staring at them through his shady mask.

Timidly, Lissa stepped forward, "Um…I never got to thank you for saving us before, so…uh…thanks…"

Once again, not a word left the stranger's pale lips.

"I've had my fill of strangers for one day. Speak your name and purpose!" Frederick demanded, his lance seeming even pointier now that he was being tested.

Jack sat up, careful not to disturb his still raw wound from the ground monster. "Well, he _did _finish off the rest of those things…I think-"

"Marth," he interrupted, "You may call me Marth."

"Well, that was rude," grumbled Jack.

Chrom ignored him. Scratching his chin as he thought, Chrom was quite amazed and perplexed at the same time. From the murals and sculptures he had seen throughout his upbringing in Ylisstol, this masked warrior seemed to fit most of the warrior-king's descriptions quite nicely.

Plus, Chrom had done a good deal of studying on the fighting style passed down from generation to generation of his line. Marth's seemed to mirror that stance, _his _stance, very suspiciously…

"Marth…like the warrior-king of old, eh?" Chrom chuckled. "Might I be standing in his presence?"

Frederick snorted. "Please, milord, let's not delve into such ridiculous topics as time travel. Let's leave those to Laien and her…what does she call those chronicles she writes? Fan fictions?"

Marth shook his head. "Enough. We aren't here to debate about me. This world…it is on the brink of destruction. The human race teeters on the edge of extinction. This battle…here….tonight…was just a preview of what is to come."

"That so?" Grunting, Jack got to his feet. His stomach area cried out in pain; he even felt the warm trickle of a small steam of blood slithering down his torso from a reopened wound. He faltered, and Lissa caught him. "Mind giving us a few more details?"

Without so much as another word, Marth turned and left, headed deep into the forest. Jack cringed, and not just from the physical pain. What with providing little to no intelligence on the beasts that had rained out of the night sky, much less the impending Armageddon, Marth was leaving them on quite the cliffhanger.

Who knew if he really was trying to help? Even if he was, "Hey, your world is doomed. Bye!" didn't help at all.

"Relax," Lissa whispered into his ear. Jack stopped and took mental inventory, realizing he was overreacting far too much for a man as wounded as he was. He relented and sat back down, allowing Lissa to begin another healing session.

Frederick hopped off of his horse and stood officially before Chrom, hands clasped behind his back. "Milord, I believe it would be in our best interests to head immediately for the capitol. The exalt must be warned of this threat immediately. All…present concerns…must be pushed aside."

Chrom nodded in concurrence. He agreed completely with his advisor: Ylisse needed to wake up to this nightmare immediately. And it didn't take a scholar to figure out exactly what…or more precisely, _who _Frederick meant when he said "present concerns."

"Alright. We make haste for Ylisstol," announced Chrom, raising his voice, "On the double, Shepherds. We leave as soon as Jack is fit to move."

"What about that Marth guy? We just gonna let him go?" grunted Jack, Lissa's healing working through a rather painful spot.

"I wouldn't worry about him." Chrom stared absently in the dark woods where only moments ago he had stood. That Marth had an adeptness for disappearing. "I'd wager this wont be the last we see of him…"

* * *

**Happy New Year, everyone! Hope my first update of 2014 starts the year off on a high note! **

**Too bad the team so far is leaving off on a low...ish...note. To be fair, they've recruited Sully and one of my favorite characters of the entire game, Virion (I know I try no to borrow TOO much dialogue directly from the game, but I just love the script for Virion. Couldn't help myself.)**

**We won't be returning to Ylisstol next chapter (spoiler, I guess) but instead some brand new OCs shall be introduced, so stay tuned! And don't worry: during my absence I have indeed been writing. Chapter 8 is nearing completion. Might even happen today. I've got plenty in store, so stay tuned!**

**As always, OC submissions are still open. So send 'em in and drop a review if you could!**

**Hope you had a happy holidays and I look forward to a great year! :D**


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